


Heavy Is The Head

by DestructionDragon360



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Roleswap, Multi, Politics, Ships to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-09 19:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11675403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestructionDragon360/pseuds/DestructionDragon360
Summary: Across the infinite Outrealms, there lie a great many worlds alike yet different from our own. In this world, the young amnesiac Robin awakens in a field to friendly faces and before long is thrust into a complicated and dangerous world of warfare and politics as they accompany Lord Frederick and his heroic retainers Chrom and Lissa in their quest to keep the peace in Ylisse.Inspired by witchnyx's roleswap AU where Frederick is the Prince! But he isn't the only one wearing someone else's shoes in this universe. A lot of characters will start in new classes or play different roles than in Awakening, look forward to them!Support Break 1, of probably many!





	1. Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue: The Verge of History  
> Not much has changed at the start of Robin's story, but they won't stay that way for long! See if you can spot the differences!

“Come on, Big Bro, we have to do _something_!”

“...What do you suppose we do?”

“I-I dunno!”

Robin stirred from their slumber, mind foggy, as if just waking up from a nap, but a thousand times stronger. Their eyes fluttered open and they saw two people standing over them, a dashing blue-haired fellow, _Chrom_ , their mind dredged up, and a sprightly blonde girl.

“I see you’re awake now.” Chrom said, happy to see that their sleeping stranger had joined them in the waking world.

“Hey there.” Lissa giggled, her smile friendly and inviting.

“There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know,” Chrom quipped. “Gimme your hand.” He reached out to Robin. 

Their eyes fell onto the back of their right hand as they took a hold of Chrom's. _What a strange tattoo,_  they thought, quickly taking in the sight of the strange purple design.

Chrom pulled them up to their feet and took a step back to give them space, for which they were thankful. They took a moment to dust themselves off, admiring for a split second the color of their purple cloak, before looking up at their awakeners. Chrom was simply dressed in a light leather, with one sleeve removed to show off his own tattoo, some manner of tear drop shape inside of a skyward-facing arch. The girl - his sister, judging by her calling him ‘Big Bro’ - was wearing a light set of half-plate armor, which focused on protecting her chest and arms and left her legs free but unguarded. _A rider of some kind_ , Robin mused.

Standing behind them was a taller man with brown hair who stood in front of two horses. _Does that white one have wings?! A pegasus_ … The man was well-armored, though not overly so. His plate mail was more ornate than the girl’s, and underneath his collar Robin could see he was quite smartly dressed. His pauldrons bore the same mark on Chrom’s arm, the metal shaped to accommodate the design. He watched Robin with a discerning eye.

“You all right?” Chrom asked, watching them take in their surroundings as they awoke fully.

“Mmm, I… I think so? Thank you, Chrom.” Their voice was a little rough from… disuse? They stopped a moment to clear their throat, and found their voice anew. “Yes, I believe I am.”

“You know who I am, then?” Chrom asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Huh?” Robin opened their mouth to answer, but found no words coming out. How did they know Chrom’s name? Who was he, exactly? Wait… where were they?! “No, I don’t. Um… this is, a little odd. Your name just came to me and…” Robin trailed off as their mind raced with questions it couldn’t answer as they tried to get their mouth to catch up.

“A little odd, I’d say,” Chrom agreed with a laugh. “So, what’s your name? What brings you here?”

“My name?” Robin blanked. All the little Robins in their head scrambled to find that word that so firmly established one’s identity and came up empty.

Chrom watched Robin’s expression furrow in confusion and it dawned on him that this might not have been normal. “You… don’t know your own name? Yet you know mine?”

“Ugh, I can’t… this is killing me! Where am I, exactly?” Robin asked, looking around at the field they’d fallen asleep in. They were in a clearing just north of a few hills that stretched down to the coast, a tree having provided Robin shade for their impromptu nap. The grass was lush and the plants were beautiful, but something about this place seemed foreign to Robin in a way they couldn’t quite explain.

“You don’t know who, or where, you are? I know what this is, they’ve got amnesia!” The girl exclaimed proudly.

“They have need of a better explanation than ‘amnesia’ if they expect us to believe they remember your brother’s name and not their own, Lissa.” The man in back said firmly. Robin winced at the accusatory tone, the way his eyes dug into them as if looking for any cracks in their demeanor, yet finding none.

“I swear, it’s true! I mean… you have to believe me!”

“...Frederick, I think they’re telling the truth. We can’t just leave them here, alone and confused. We’re the Shepherds! Helping people like them is our job.” Chrom came to Robin’s defense, and they heaved a sigh of relief. It was good to see that honesty had worked better than had they tried to come up with some excuse. Chrom certainly would have had trouble believing someone with no name, and Frederick would have seen right through them.

“So it is, but I shall remain cautious. ‘Twould not do to let a wolf into our flock.” Frederick said, turning to the horses and preparing them to move.

Chrom turned and walked with Lissa to the horses, saying, “Alright, we’ll take them back to town and figure everything out there. Sound good?”

Feeling ignored, and more than that, powerless, Robin cried out. “Wait! Don’t I have a say in this?!”

“Relax, you can say what you need to say back in town. Unless you’d rather just stand out here…” Chrom said with a shrug of his shoulders as Frederick helped Lissa mount her pegasus and effortlessly pulled himself up onto his horse’s back. Robin huffed and followed, miffed that they were being dragged around like this.

~~~

As they walked together, Robin noticed the very sharp-looking lance strapped to the side of Frederick’s horse, a less threatening one on Lissa’s, and a strange longsword on Chrom’s belt. Realizing that these people were armed and dangerous, their walk took on a new light. Robin’s breath hitched as they called out, “What’s going to happen to me, if I can’t remember anything? Am I to be your prisoner?”

Chrom laughed and - after exchanging a glance with Frederick, who nodded - turned to Robin, saying, “You’ll be free to go once we establish you’re no enemy of Ylisse.”

Ylisse. A proper name. “Is that where we are? Ylisse?”

Frederick scoffed. “Anyone who can claim not to have heard of the halidom should be paid handsomely for their acting abilities. You play quite the fool! The furrowed brow is especially convincing…” Frederick’s ribbing turned speculative as he watched their expression.

“Frederick, cut them some slack.” Chrom turned back to Robin and explained, “This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. The land is ruled by a line of kings, and protected by those of the Exalted bloodline.” As he took in Robin’s contemplative expression, he continued, “And, I suppose this is the part where I’m supposed to give introductions. My name is Chrom--though, I suppose you already knew that. The delicate one on the pegasus is my sister, Lissa.”

“I am NOT delicate! I’m a full-fledged pegasus knight now!” Lissa pouted. “Ignore my brother, he’s about as thick as brick sometimes.” As Chrom feigned offense, Lissa smiled, “But hey! At least you’re lucky the Shepherds found you instead of someone else. Brigands would’ve been a rude awakening!”

“Shepherds? You tend sheep? ...In full armor?” Robin asked incredulously. Chrom had said they helped people, and if they were sheep herders they would have a good lay of the land, so that would make sense… and if banditry was a common problem, they would need to be armed to defend themselves.

“It’s a dangerous job. Just ask Frederick the Wary here.” Chrom joked.

“I would prefer you use my actual title, but if caution is what I am to be known for then I shall wear the title with pride. I suppose someone has to keep their guard up, and gods forbid it be one of you two,” Frederick jeered, causing Lissa to pout again, flying off to scout ahead as if to prove him wrong. “Perhaps I would trust you, stranger, but a man of my station must be attentive, or he invites danger otherwise.”

Robin nodded. “I understand, sir. I would do no less myself.” They side-eyed Chrom, who seemed to miss the implication as he simply met their gaze with a charming smile. Something about that smile made something click, as if one of the little Robins in their head had that smile pinned as a photograph somewhere, signed to their name. “My name is Robin, by the way. I only just remembered that, but hey! That’s one mystery solved, I suppose.”

“Robin, huh?” Chrom tasted the name on his lips. “Like the bird?” He looked around, as if by searching, one of the thrushes sharing their name would appear just for the sake of it. “We’re almost to town. Once we’re there, we-”

“Frederick! Chrom! Come look! The town!” Lissa called out from above, pointing to just over the hill. When the others could see what she was pointing at, Frederick swore as he saw pillars of smoke rising up from various parts of the town.

“Fires! Follow me!” Frederick spurred his horse forward, galloping off to the town.

“Frederick! What about Robin?!” Chrom called out as Lissa matched Frederick’s pace, leaving the two on foot in the dust.

“They’re not on fire, it can wait! Hurry!” Frederick answered.

“Blasted brigands, no doubt…” Chrom muttered before dashing off after them, leaving Robin behind.

“But, what should I…?” Robin looked down at their belt and recognized the glint of green metal. They were armed? They could help! Robin raced after them, knowing somewhere in the back of their mind that rushing into battle was exactly what they were meant to do.

~~~

“Ba ha ha! Get to it, you louts! If it shines in the light, you grab it, and if it doesn’t, it can burn for all I care!” The bandit leader called out to his men, who were spreading out after having started the fires to distract the civilians. “It’s time we set an example for the Ylisseans, aye?!” He sneered at one of the women cowering in the church behind him. “Isn’t that right, girl?” She cried out for help as the man laughed.

“Gods, Frederick, this is awful!” Lissa cried as she saw the wreckage the bandits had caused before they’d arrived.

“Worry not--these brigands shan’t cause any more harm after today,” he called out, readying his lance arm.

As Chrom caught up to them, Frederick looked back to see Robin following as well. “Hm? Why have you come, Robin?” He asked suspiciously.

“I can’t say I know, myself. But! I’m armed, and after testing my sword arm on the way here, I’d say I know my way around a fight, if you’ll have me.”

Frederick grunted, but Chrom answered for him. “There’s strength in numbers. Stay close!”

The fighting was intense. Before anyone knew what was going on, Robin was directing them on where to go and who to attack without even thinking about it, and while Frederick had his reservations, he admitted to himself that he could do no better. Robin’s idea of covering each other by fighting in close proximity ran counter of his own strategy of divide and conquer, but he could see its merits. Even more than usual, he found himself guarding Lissa and Chrom against blows, and found that Robin themselves was a more than capable fighter. Their swordsmanship was standard, but when they pulled out a tome to finish off Chrom’s opponent he couldn’t help but be awed. Magic was not something that came easily to anyone, and to see Robin switch from blades to blasts of thunder so effortlessly was very impressive.

He turned his attention to the opponent in front of him. Robin had smartly kept with Chrom to combat the barbarians amongst the enemy, directing him and Lissa to pair up and fend off the myrmidons. With Lissa’s speed on his side, Frederick made short work of them, allowing Lissa to get her licks in and getting her own kill against the mage that tried to electrocute him. Frederick noted the quake in Lissa’s lance arm and made a note to help her improve her steadiness next training session.

Soon all that was left was the Shepherds and the bandit leader. “Look how the sheep line up for the slaughter!” He taunted, but kept his guard up. He was outnumbered and he knew it.

“Frederick, with me!” Robin called out as they rushed the bandit. Frederick managed to deflect some of the force of the axe that came down to meet the tactician, and noticed the ease with which Robin shrugged off the cut they’d taken before swinging their arm out and across the bandit’s midsection. “Chrom, Lissa!” As if on cue, the heir to Exalted bloodline and his sister came forward, Chrom swinging Falchion’s divine edge skillfully as he locked blades with the bleeding axeman. Lissa took the opportunity to get a stab in while he was left open by his clash with Chrom, and as he staggered from the hole in his shoulder, Chrom managed to slash his chest open. The fire in the man’s eyes had yet to go out however, and he turned, almost expertly, to Robin. He could tell who it was calling the shots in this battle, and was determined to take them down with him. Frederick was about to move to intercept when he saw Robin duck back from the arc of the axe swing, before shooting forward and swinging the blade out and into his gut, cutting away the last tie the man had to life.

With the bandits taken care of, Frederick saw to it the Shepherds and their savvy companion ensured the safety of the townspeople. The fires were mostly put out, but Frederick made sure that there were no stragglers looking to start another blaze.

“Wow, Robin! That was amazing! Swords, sorcery, tactics?! Is there anything you can’t do?” Frederick overheard Lissa fawning over them as he returned to the center of town.

“Whoever you are, now that you’ve gotten your bearings, you’re no helpless victim, that’s for sure,” Chrom said with a pat on the shoulder to whom Frederick could see was a new friend for him.

“Quite. Perhaps you might even be able to explain how you came to be here?” He probed, eager to hear even a single slip in the disguise of the amnesiac wearing Grimleal robes. Chrom hadn’t mentioned it, but Frederick could not shake the uneasiness the eyes sewn into that coat made him feel.

“You’re skeptical. I understand, Sir Frederick. Why has only some knowledge returned to me, and not the rest? I don’t have an answer, but I can only hope it will come with time. Please, believe me. I have shared all that I know.” Frederick bore into them with his gaze, his eyes a keen tool for finding any tell that could give Robin away as a liar and a fool, but found nothing.

“...I can see that you are being truthful, and yet, I cannot be certain,” he said with more bitterness than he’d have liked to let slip.

Chrom, of course, was quick to their defense. His heart had claimed Robin as a friend, there was no denying that. “They fought to save Ylissean lives. Is that not enough, Frederick? My heart tells me it is.”

“And your mind? What has it to say on the matter?” He retorted.

“Frederick, we could use someone with their talents. Brigands and bandits, foreign enemies, religious fanatics, all looking to spill Ylissean blood. Would you really have us lose such an able tactician?” His words made Frederick scowl. He was right, Ylisse had many enemies out to destroy it, and they needed all the help they could get. The army was still in tatters from the previous war, and the Shepherds were the best Frederick could ask for in terms of a personal militia.

“...Fine. I yield to your counsel, Chrom. But know that I have my reservations on the veracity of their story.”

“Well, I believe it, odd as it may be,” Chrom said with that stubborn firmness that made him such a good leader. Frederick had many regrets, but agreeing to Chrom’s idea of forming the Shepherds was not one of them.

“Thank you, Chrom,” Robin said with a sincerity that almost made Frederick drop his guard. No, he could not afford to let an emotional showing get the better of him. Better liars than they had tried to pull the wool over his eyes, and he always saw through it. Years of courtly duties had trained him well.

“So? Will you join us?” Chrom asked, with Lissa’s eager face right behind him, silently pleading for a positive answer.

“I’d love to.”

Frederick simply accepted this new reality as the one in which he lived. One of these days Chrom was going to start recruiting everyone that caught his eye, be they strangers, enemies, assassins, or nutcases. Gods' breath, but he would have to keep his guard up whenever Chrom meets a fellow who strikes his fancy. This Robin may have proved well-intentioned but the next recruit might not be so kind as to not stick a knife in the back of Falchion’s Chosen. Something was bothering him though.

“Did anyone else notice the brigand’s accent?” He asked, turning to Chrom and Lissa questioningly.

Lissa shook her head and Chrom pouted. “Can’t say I did. He sounded like he could have come from anywhere,” he answered, pondering the issue.

“Indeed, it would seem these hired hands aren’t quite as dumb as their looks might suggest. They could be Feroxi, Plegian… perhaps Valmese?” Frederick pondered, before turning to look at Robin’s coat. “My guess would be this was Plegia’s doing.”

Robin turned, as if sensing his gaze, yet unaware of his unspoken accusation, and asked, “Plegia? What’s that?”

“Plegia is Ylisse’s neighbor, to the west. Some speculate that they’re the ones sending bands of cutthroats and mercenaries into our territory, to spark a war,” Chrom explained and, for the first time, Frederick noticed, seemed to take note of Robin’s coat, tan complexion, and snow white hair, and backpedaled, “However, their new Queen has been nothing but amiable… if a bit off-putting. She’s very experienced in both politics and warfare, and wiser minds than I believe that if she wanted war, she would have it. Personally, I think this is the work of our neighbors to the north, in Regna Ferox. They’re a warrior khanate of strong barbarian roots, and they’re incredibly proud of their military strength. Bullying a weaker nation like ours while we’re still recovering from war seems something they would do.”

“Blah, blah, blah, all this nonsense about who’s attacking us is real interesting, but it’s the poor townsfolk who suffer!” Lissa cut in and lamented. “Totally innocent, and totally helpless…”

“Don’t forget, Lissa, they do have us; Shepherds to protect the sheep,” Frederick answered calmly. He could already see the fire in Chrom’s eyes at the indignation of being made a victim of brutality, the sadness in Lissa’s at the thought of civilians she couldn’t protect. Watching them had always helped him keep a cooler head, when he compared himself to what he saw in them. “We must not allow anger to cloud our judgment. We must be rational and calculating in our response to this insult.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before…” Lissa may have rolled her eyes, but Frederick could tell she’d made great strides from the time she first picked up a lance. When he’d first told her to reign in her emotions, she’d thrown a tantrum, calling him cold and heartless, but now she saw his side of things, the calm that one must maintain as a protector. The shift in her posture to one of a proper pegasus knight was also an encouraging sight. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll get used to all this.”

And like the fell dragon seeing his chance to offer his temptations, one of the village leaders rushed towards them. He was out of breath and clearly coming down from the fear and excitement, but his tone was nothing if not grateful. “Milord, please! You must stay the night! We can offer little in the ways of extravagance, but your bravery on this day shall not go unaddressed! Please, we would throw a feast in your honor!”

Though he could already see Chrom’s mouth water, and Lissa beginning to rattle off an order as if she were back in the castle kitchens, Frederick cut in, saying, “Your generosity is most kind, sir, and I am sure your hospitality would be a welcome reprieve… but I’m afraid we must hurry back to Ylisstol."

Lissa, of course, was absolutely taken aback. “What do you mean, Frederick?! It’s nearly dark! Why can’t we stay and sleep cozy tonight?” Her pout might have swayed lesser men, but Frederick had learned to resist her charms long ago.

“When night falls, we’ll camp. Live off the fat of the land, rest amongst the grass and such. Did you not say you would 'get used to all this'?” He asked with a quirk of the eyebrow that he knew she just hated.

“Frederick, I swear, I don’t know how you do this. Sometimes I hate you. So much,” she declared, as if her youthful scorn could phase him.

“He’s quite the firm man, I see,” Robin quipped.

Lissa laughed, “Yeah, well, 'firm' is one word for it. I can think of a few others!”

Chrom seemed not to value his own neck enough not to join in on the joke. “Frederick only smiles when he’s bringing his lance to bear.”

As Robin snorted in laughter, Frederick decided to end this whilst getting the last laugh, metaphorically. “I AM still present, you know. Unless you’d like to see me smile?” He asked with a quirk of his lip daring them to continue. That stiffened them right up. “Let’s get going. Lissa is right, it is nearly dark.”

“Alright, alright,” Chrom answered with a roll of his eyes as he prepared to join Lissa on her pegasus. He seemed to understand that, with news of the latest attack needing to make it to Ylisstol, they hadn’t time to tarry. He turned back to Robin. “Ready to go? The capital isn’t far.” Robin nodded, and though Frederick was tempted to let them walk, he pushed the idea aside as he helped them up onto Serenity, his noble steed.

Frederick could tell from the tightness with which Robin’s arms wrapped around his midsection, and the wide-eyed look they had on their face as he took Serenity into a gallop that this was likely Robin’s first time riding. He had always understood riding to be a very visceral activity, and one that, like fighting, came naturally to a regular, and Robin’s visible nerves made it clear they were very new to this. As he turned his head forward and rolled his eyes, he decided that he’d need to do quite a bit of drilling with the newest Shepherd if they were to be integrated into the Ylissean militia.

As the four rode off to the north, the night that fell over the land came down less like a blanket of rest, and more like the beginning of a new, dark age for the world, though the lord and his companions had no way of knowing it.


	2. Start of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more things change, the more they stay the same. The dead walk the earth and Marth introduces himself, and Robin gets a big shock when the Shepherds return to Ylisstol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1: Unwelcome Change  
> Dead men walking! And swinging very sharp weapons! Our weapons are sharper though :P

It wasn’t until after the sun had set, but before the sky had completely darkened, that the Shepherds stopped to make camp on Frederick’s orders. Robin dismounted first, shaking from the new experience to the point that they stumbled and fell to the ground, though they hardly minded. The earth underneath them was a welcome feeling over the constant hopping and bouncing of riding a horse. The others dismounted as well, with far more grace than Robin, though judging by the look on Lissa’s face, she wasn’t happy about it.

“I told you it was getting dark! And we’re still hours away from Ylisstol! But nooooo, you just HAD to camp out for the night!” Lissa complained to Frederick as he began unpacking supplies from his horse. She swatted at some insect or another that flew too close to her. “Ech! And now the bugs are out! Noisy, disgusting bugs that buzz around and crawl all over and bite you when-” Lissa stopped in revulsion as she tasted one that dared to fly onto her tongue. With a choke she gasped, “Agh! Won goph in mah mouph! Blech! Ptooey!” Lissa spat out onto the ground in disgust while Chrom laughed.

“Aw, come on now, Sis. Hardship builds character,” He said with a jolly pat on her back while she sputtered and moaned. Robin couldn’t help but notice that even if Chrom was built tougher, he didn’t look much better equipped to handle these conditions. His skin was still fairly soft and uncalloused. Maybe he had trained harder, but they guessed he was just as new to all this as Lissa, if perhaps more open to the experience. “Want to help me gather firewood?” Chrom asked once Lissa recovered.

“...I think I swallowed it…” Lissa grumbled in revulsion before responding, “I’ll pass on finding firewood, thanks. I think I’ve built QUITE enough character for one day!”

Robin was about to offer to join Chrom on his search when their stomach let out a loud rumble and distracted them. “Firewood or no, we need to think about finding food. I can’t speak for all of you, but I’m starving. I haven’t eaten in…” Robin paused as they realized that their memory didn’t go back at all far enough to recall a last meal. “Okay I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve last eaten but by the emptiness in my stomach it could have been days now.”

For the first time, Frederick seemed to take no umbrage to their suggestion. “Yes, a little hunting and gathering is certainly in order. Lissa, you can clear the campsite, it’s sure to be more to your liking than hunting for meat. Chrom, gather enough wood to build a proper cooking fire and then some to keep it burning for heat in the night. Robin, with me.” Robin looked at him with surprise that he was so willing to accept their help on this, thinking he’d have been more inclined not to have his back exposed around them, which they couldn’t blame him for (even if he was dead wrong). That said, Robin followed quickly behind him, keeping their sword on hand if anything decided to jump out of the brush.

Robin was surprised to see that Frederick was able to move quietly in his armor. They noted that his plating, while covering, wasn’t quite heavy, and seemed to move freely with him. By their estimate, he was probably still training for combat in heavier armor, as his lance and shield arms were plenty strong for it, but he seemed yet still less equipped than he could be. “Sir Frederick, if you don’t mind my asking, what is the extent of your combat training?” Robin spoke quietly while they had stopped to examine some tracks. “You’re clearly more experienced than the others, but from what I can see you’ve still got room to grow that I can’t quite place.”

Frederick took note of the path their prey had taken before answering, “Yes, I have not yet reached my fullest capabilities. I have fought on real battlefields, unlike Chrom and Lissa, who have only fought skirmishes against bandits. However, I have yet to reach a higher class of skill, and have much more training to do before I can take up further arms. Perhaps after a few more battles I will be ready, but for now my skills have sufficed. Now let us be quiet, or our food might slip away.” Robin nodded, and watched Frederick’s posture as he stalked forward. Robin considered themselves light on their feet, but Frederick’s footsteps were made with a care that was more practiced. Elegant, even. They remembered the ease with which Frederick moved in battle, especially in tandem with Lissa and themselves, and figured that Frederick must have been trained in proper posture and footing.

It was then that they came up their prey in a small clearing; a bear had stopped to drink from the stream that passed through. Frederick scowled as he gripped his lance tighter, and Robin nodded, directing him forward while they moved around to flank it. When Frederick engaged the bear, holding it off with his spear, Robin ducked in and stabbed it right in the heart. How they had managed that, they couldn’t know. Perhaps they’d hunted bear before? Or studied their anatomy? Either way, with the bear dead Robin could only avert their eyes as Frederick began the process of field dressing it for consumption, a process that Robin felt _should_ have made their stomach churn, but only made them hungry. They tried not to think about where Frederick was cutting or what he was pulling out but when he was finished and his knife and hands were clean they were happy to drag the carcass back to camp for him as thanks for handling the dirty work. “I can only hope you look forward to the meal more than I am,” he muttered in a tone that made Robin question how good bear meat tasted.

Those questions were quickly answered when Chrom finished pulling the bear skewers out of the fire he’d made and handed one to them. The smell of meat cooking had been driving Robin mad, even more so after Frederick noted that, to everyone’s surprise but his own, salting meat actually made it taste better. Robin at least understood that they couldn’t remember how to cook, but Chrom and Lissa had no such excuse. Not that Robin cared once they started tearing into the meat, the tough game like nothing Robin had ever tasted… because Robin had no memory of ever tasting anything before. Well, if all food tasted this good, they would never turn down a meal.

Chrom seemed to agree as he smacked his lips in between bites. “Mmm… it’s been too long since I last had bear meat. Delicious!” He looked over at them and smiled as they scarfed down their share, but frowned when he saw Frederick taking small bites and Lissa flatout refusing to touch hers. “What’s wrong, Sis? Dig in.”

Lissa’s face turned sour as she was forced to acknowledge the meat in front of her. “Pass! Seriously, Frederick, couldn’t you spear us an animal normal people eat for once? Who in their right mind eats bear?! That’s messing with the food chain. Don’t you think, Robin?” Robin looked up with juice dribbling down their mouth as they swallowed another bite. They simply shrugged and went back to eating. Lissa sighed, “I guess anyone would enjoy whatever you put in front of them after not eating for days…”

Chrom rolled his eyes. “Just eat it, Sis. Meat is meat.”

Lissa politely disagreed. “Since when does meat take 10 minutes to chew?!” She screamed. “There are Shepherds less tough than this stuff!”

Frederick powered his way through his next mouthful, swallowing it with a look of discomfort. “Every experience makes us stronger, Lissa. Even those we don’t enjoy.”

Lissa side-eyed him with suspicion. “Yeah? Is that why you look like you’re about to declare war on your portion? Does eating it make _you_ stronger too, if you hate it so much?”

“I would rather eat meat for which I have no taste than go hungry, Lissa. You know as well as I how much energy a battle requires.”

That quieted her down, though she still couldn’t work up the appetite to eat her portion. Hey, more for Robin!

When the food was all eaten and the bedrolls are out, Robin passed the time watching the stars before Chrom turned to them. “So hey, where did you learn to fight with a sword like you do? I’ve never seen anyone with that style before.”

Robin looked at him as if to say ‘ _Really?_ ’ “I don’t remember, Chrom.”

Chrom blushed as he realized he was talking to an amnesiac. “R-right, sorry.” He looked back up at the stars before continuing, “It’s just, Ylissean swordfighting is so different from how you swung your sword. Your style has more… flourish, with a lot of wide swings and precise strikes. In Ylisse, we tend to focus more on strength, incorporating jumps into our attacks for more power and aiming wherever we think we’ll hit, whereas you seem to know just where the enemy’s weak spots are.”

Robin shrugged. “Guess that’s just how I learned to fight. If I see a weak spot, I aim for it.” They looked down to examine their own relatively skinny arms compared to Chrom’s toned muscles. “Not to mention, I don’t seem to be the strongest sword swinger, so I kind of have to fight smarter to compensate, I guess.”

Chrom laughed at that. “Well, if your brains can match the brawn of men as easily as they did today, you won’t have to train a day in your life.” He seemed to think a little on that, before adding, “But I wouldn’t mind showing you a thing or two. When we get back to Ylisstol, I can take you to the training yard and we can show each other a few things. Sound good?”

Robin blinked. "Sure." They figured they’d see plenty of Chrom once they joined the Shepherds, but it hadn’t quite settled in that this would be their life now. They spent the remainder of the time before falling asleep thinking about sheep herding and combat training. Their last conscious thought was that the first thing they were going to do was show Chrom that he’s not supposed to swing a rapier like a longsword.

~~~

Frederick awoke to the shaking of the earth. Trees were falling, the earth cracked and rumbled, fires roared furiously as the earth spat out balls of flaming rock. Fantastic. Oh, and Chrom and Lissa were gone, probably had some sort of ‘bad feeling’ as Chrom tended to have. Robin had awoken as well and needed little encouraging to grab their gear and join him on his mount. Thankfully, the sky left an easy path to follow in the form of a strange blue circle not too high above the trees.

The path itself, however, was not without its dangers. Frederick scowled as he slammed his lancehead against another of the monstrosities that now prowled the forests west of Ylisstol. He didn’t have time to cut them all down, he didn’t have time to rid the land, _his home_ , of these things. But Robin fired off enough lightning magic behind them to keep their backs clear of danger, and for that, he was thankful. It was only a moment before he came upon a break in the trees to see Chrom staring down a masked stranger with short blue hair, and Lissa clutching her spear like a lifeline as she pressed her back to the boulder behind her.

“Chrom, Lissa! What in gods’ breath is going on?!” He demanded of them as Robin dismounted.

“Frederiiiiick!” Lissa cried out to him almost in tears. That was a good sign. In her first panic attack in the field she’d been hysterical and inconsolable, but as her pegasus landed beside her, she seemed at least stable, if terrified.

“These monsters can _not_ be normal here, can they?” Robin inquired, staring at the undead taking the field around them with unmasked horror.

“Not in Ylisse, that’s for sure…” Chrom said with a scowl, pulling his sword up into his usual combat stance.

“If you’re not injured, get ready. These things were upon us all the way here. Whatever they are, they won’t hesitate to cut you down,” Frederick commanded sternly as he took point. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He tacked on at the end, hoping that would relax Lissa a little.

It seemed to have the desired effect as Lissa smiled upon mounting her pegasus, Isadora. “Thank goodness for that masked man! If it wasn’t for him, I’d have been… Hey, where did he go?” Lissa looked around questioningly, and Frederick took note of the fact that the man (though he’d have thought to call them a boy) had disappeared. No time to question that though, as the monsters were beginning to charge. “Forget about him. First, we put these… things… to the blade.”

Robin was quick to take note of the forts on the field, and wisely paired the group up and took refuge in them, keeping themselves with Frederick and Chrom with Lissa. Chrom had the advantage over the axe wielders in the south, while Frederick’s lance arm and Robin’s magic were more than a match for the things further north. They’d cut a few down when Frederick heard the familiar sound of swearing. He saw Sully burst out of the trees from the east, her lightly armored coat blowing behind her as she brandished her sword. She must have been planning on meeting them on their way back to Ylisstol. “All right, you ash-faced freaks! Which one of ya wants to try my sword on for size? I know just the spot for it: shoved right up your-”

Before the Shepherds’ prized swordswoman could finish her expletive, a harsh cry cut her off as a gentleman flew down atop a fearsome wyvern. “Hold, milady!” While Sully tried to figure out who the hell just interrupted her entrance, Frederick could overhear the dandy begin what could only be a memorized spiel attempting to sweep her off her feet. Frederick turned back to the battle as Robin stared wide-eyed at the display of philandering from the man Frederick would come to know as Virion and the chauvinist stomping from Sully. With the shenanigans Frederick had come to expect from people of the Shepherds (and prospective Shepherds, if this wyvern rider proved himself valuable) over with, Robin quickly adapted and had the two aid Chrom and Lissa in clearing out the monsters in the south.

Whatever constituted a leader amongst these abominations only arrived to the battle once the Shepherds had cleared out its allies. Its axe arm was strong and attacked from a distance, but Robin didn’t let any of the Shepherds too close if they were injured. Chrom was recovering in one of the forts while Robin dueled the monster hand-to-hand, and Sully came up from behind and drove her blade through its midsection, cutting its spine in half. Whatever power kept these things mobile failed it as it collapsed and faded into dark mist.

As the others collected themselves, Frederick took note of the masked man returning, from the south. It occurred to him that he and Robin had passed a great many creatures on their gallop towards the battlefield, and as none came to the aid of their brethren… “It seems all the creatures are vanquished. This young man took care of the others,” Frederick spoke loudly to the others as Lissa turned to her savior.

“I almost didn’t get the chance to thank you for saving me! So, thank you.” Lissa curtsied as a proper noblewoman should. “You were very brave.”

Chrom stepped forward with a smile. “You saved my sister’s life, and for that, you have my thanks as well. My name is Chrom. Might I ask yours?” Gods above he was about to invite him to join the Shepherds too. Was the flying fop not enough? Frederick could still hear him flirting with Sully, and that was AFTER she’d kicked him so hard Frederick could have sworn the wyvern flinched.

“You may call me Marth.” The stranger finally spoke, in a tone of voice not at all unlike Robin’s. Perhaps they’d been too hasty in assuming this ‘Marth’ was a man. Robin certainly seemed to prefer a distinction of neither gender.

“Marth? After the heroic king of old?” Chrom seemed to look at Marth in a new light. Rather than the trusting eyes of the Shepherds’ leader and overzealous recruiter, they were the discerning eyes of a fellow noble warrior. “You certainly fight like a hero. Where did you learn your way with a sword?”

Marth’s lips tightened, and Frederick could see that this enigmatic fellow wasn’t about to let slip anything more than necessary. “I’m not here to talk about me. This world teeters at the brink of a horrible calamity. What you saw tonight was but a prelude.” Marth turned and from behind that mask, Frederick could tell he was looking at him. “You have been warned.”

Lissa tried to get a few more words out of him as he walked away, but Frederick could tell he’d said all he’d come to say. Which made his warning all the more ominous… Why take the time to whisper such vague nonsense to the wind? Perhaps… perhaps he knew who he was talking to? If Frederick could expect disaster on the horizon, he had better means to prepare for it.

“Not much for conversation, are they?” Robin mused. Frederick took note of their choice of pronouns. Seems he wasn’t the only one thinking they’d jumped to conclusions about Marth’s gender. It was a wonder they’d somehow managed not to assume the same of Robin.

“It appears they have business elsewhere. I wager we’ll see them again before long…” Frederick stiffened up and refocused on his duties. “But for now, I’m more concerned about the capital. We should make haste. We have lost the luxury of resting through the night now that Ylisse has suffered both this quake and the rise of these monsters.”

~~~

“So this is Ylisstol, capital of Ylisse… I didn’t know there could be so many people in one place at once!” Robin said with awe. They could hardly take in everything going on around them, but they managed. The streets were bustling with travelers, nobles, merchants, locals, all going about their business. The castle lay at the back of the city to the far north, and all roads seemed to converge on it. Robin couldn’t quite place the looks the people were giving the Shepherds, but they could figure that out later. Sully had left to escort Virion and his wyvern Minerva to the Shepherds’ stables, along with Frederick and Lissa’s mounts. So it was back to the original four, making their way towards Castle Ylisstol for whatever reason.

“It appears the capital was spared the chaos we encountered, thank the gods,” Frederick observed with relief. “I see no evidence of the great quake. Seeing as we seemed to be at least close to its epicenter in the woods, its effects must not have been felt too far away in any direction, limiting it to the forest.”

“Thank goodness for that!” Lissa said, relaxing her previously tense shoulders. She’d been nervous about coming home to devastation the entire night’s ride.

As they continued through the city streets, Robin couldn’t shrug off the feeling that most eyes were on them and the others. It wasn’t until they saw a new face with flowing locks of familiar blonde hair approaching from the castle did they finally catch a whisper among the citizenry, “The high prince has returned!” High prince?

“Emm!” Lissa called out with glee and threw herself at the woman, and Robin took note of the three pegasus knights escorting her. Chrom was almost as eager, moving ahead to greet her jovially. The woman looked to Frederick and nodded before turning to the others.

“Frederick, who’s that?” They asked, since it seemed introductions would come later.

“Her name is Lady Emmeryn, of the Exalted Bloodline,” He answered stiffly, as if giving a title rather than a name.

“The Exalted… so she’s descended from the heroes you mentioned?” Robin asked as Chrom and Lissa returned from talking with her, while she headed off towards the castle.

“Indeed. The Exalted Bloodline is a family of champions and legends descended from King Marth himself. They are a symbol of hope. Long ago, at the dawn of our age, the fell dragon’s worshipers tried to bring about the end of the world. But the first of the exalted joined forces with the divine dragon and laid them and their beast low. Emmeryn herself reminds us all of the hope held in our hearts when we fought back then,” Frederick recited. It was like he’d memorized the whole spiel about the nation’s heroes or something.

“With all the fighting within our borders, the people need her guidance,” Chrom said, looking at her with something in his eyes Robin couldn’t quite place. Pride, maybe? “She’s a calming presence, when some might otherwise call for war. Her counsel to the throne as an adviser has kept us peaceful for years.”

Robin nodded. Frederick had mentioned that the Exalted family were close with the king, it made sense that they were valued voices in the court. “Ylisse is lucky to have her, then.”

“She’s also the best big sister anyone could ask for!” Lissa added with glee.

“I’m sorry, what?” Robin blinked. “If she’s… then you and Chrom…” Robin looked between the two of them, with Lissa just looking cheerful as always while Chrom seemed to be getting a kick out of watching them figure it out. “I thought you were ‘shepherds’! Your family serves the king?!”

Chrom raised his hands up defensively with a smile, “And so we are… in a manner of speaking. We just have a LOT of sheep.”

“But if you serve the king, what are you doing out patrolling fields?!” Robin questioned. This wasn’t making any sense.

“Prince, actually,” Frederick corrected.

“What?”

“The previous king fell in the Ylissean Crusades against Plegia, and the council has been putting off the coronation for years. So for now, they serve a prince, not a king,” Frederick stated smoothly.

And suddenly it hit Robin like a bolt of lightning. “You’re the prince of Ylisse?!”

“Indeed. All that I do, I do for the realm. Including being teased scathingly by my retainers,” He said with a hint of a smile on his mouth.

“Frederick… I mean, Prince Frederick! Milord! Please forgive my dreadful manners!” Robin bowed deeply, the shame burning their face hot. Suddenly it all made sense, Frederick’s poise and demeanor, his slowness to trust, _Gods_ he’d even said he’d preferred if Chrom used his actual title! Stupid Robin, stupid, stupid!

Frederick chuckled softly. “Yes, well, you’ll find yourself in good company if you drop formalities among the other Shepherds. I have long since accepted that my comrades-in-arms treat me like an equal, and not a prince.” He straightened his back. “It is… refreshing, in a way. Though I suppose Chrom and Lissa have never seen me as anything more than a close friend, since we’ve been by each others’ sides since they were children.”

Robin straightened themselves out in kind and came to grips with the situation. “I suppose that explains the teasing. The crown prince, huh?”

Chrom nudged them with his elbow. “Come on, Emm’s already on her way back to the palace. We should join her!”

And just like that, they were off towards the castle again. Now all the looks they were getting made sense, and Robin couldn’t help but shrink a little under the eyes of the people. Who were they to be walking side by side with Ylisse’s high prince and their Exalted heroes? Sure, the other Shepherds had the same honor, but Robin was still a stranger! And not only that… Robin hadn’t thought about it, but as they passed a merchant Robin finally caught a glimpse of themselves in the mirror he was peddling. Their brow furrowed as they realized that they didn’t look much like other Ylisseans at all. Their hair was a stark white, cut short, and their skin was quite tan, a shade of brown that was indicative of a much harsher climate of heritage than Ylisse’s temperate sun. Wherever they were from, they weren’t native to Ylisse, that much was certain.

Robin pouted as they continued forward, watching as the guards at Castle Ylisstol quickly opened the gates upon their approach. The castle was certainly grand, for sure, and Emmeryn met with them in the entrance hall, one of the pegasus knights from earlier at her side. “Welcome home, everyone. And good day to you, Lord Frederick,” Emmeryn said politely with a curtsy, pulling at the corners of her flowing robes. “How fared you all in your travels?”

Frederick nodded to Chrom to give a brief report. “Well--we hopefully won’t have any more bandit problems near Southtown for a while.”

Emmeryn nodded with a smile. “Wonderful to hear. And the people?”

“Safe as can be, Emm. But only if we keep an eye out. We don’t know from where the brigands came, or if they were already within our borders when they decided to strike.”

The pegasus knight, a fair-skinned woman with hair a very particular shade of silvery-blue pulled up into a bun and striking red eyes, chimed in. “Forgive me, sir Chrom. My pegasus knights ought to have spotted them while scouting, rather than having you chance upon them.”

Frederick took the moment to cut in. “No, Lady Phila. The Pegasus Knight Brigade is one of Ylisstol’s last remaining bastions of defense. Your duty was here, in the castle, with Emmeryn.” Robin couldn’t quite place the look in Frederick’s eye as he finished his last sentence, and the exchange of looks between him and Phila suggested… something, that Robin couldn’t figure out.

“Besides, we had plenty of help!” Lissa said with a smile.

Emmeryn turned to Robin with a very guarded look in her eyes, even if the rest of her face remained neutral. “You speak of this new companion of yours here?”

Chrom decidedly threw an arm around Robin’s shoulder and explained, “This is Robin. They fought bravely with us against the brigands. Not only are they skilled in combat, but their tactical mind has proved an invaluable asset. I’ve decided to make them a Shepherd, as our new tactician. I have a feeling any battles to come will be won easily with their help.”

Emmeryn smiled at that. “It sounds as though Ylisse owes you a debt of gratitude, Robin.”

“I was only doing my part, ma’am,” Robin said firmly. They couldn’t shake the look in Emmeryn’s eyes. Even when she smiled it didn’t extend all the way, as if everything she did was an act rather than the genuine article. At the very least, they softened when she spoke to Lissa and Chrom.

Frederick cleared his throat. “In spite of all this, Emmeryn, I must voice my trepidation. Robin claims to have lost their memory, but it is only that: a claim. They fought well, yes, but I cannot rule out the possibility that they are themselves an enemy, perhaps even a deep cover Plegian spy. It would not surprise me if they had devised a curse to wipe away an agent’s memory to plant them within our ranks.” Robin’s eyes went wide. Oh gods, it would make perfect sense! They hadn’t once told a lie, and yet how could they know for sure they weren’t sent to Ylisse with some sort of mission buried in their foggy memory? What if--

“Frederick!” Chrom snapped them out of their panic as he confronted his liege. “I don’t give a damn about some ‘possibility’ or theoretical curse! Robin has my trust, and I _thought_ they’d earned yours.” The look Chrom was giving Frederick was so intense Robin couldn’t help but think he was trying to set the prince on fire with his eyes.

“You allowed them into the castle, Frederick. Are you sure your doubts are genuine?” Emmeryn’s question, along with the tone of it that Robin couldn’t help but feel was a familiar one to Frederick judging by the way he stiffened up, pierced right through his armor.

“...They risked their life for our people, and for us. They fought valiantly by my side. Perhaps my wariness has been a bit… forced,” Frederick admitted. “We have Shepherds among us who have done less to earn their place amongst our ranks.”

“And it has certainly been more than enough for me,” Chrom responded, not taking his eyes off Frederick or his hand off Robin’s shoulder. His support was comforting.

“Well then, Robin. It seems you’ve earned Chrom’s faith, and as such, you have mine as well,” Emmeryn declared. “And Lord Frederick may have voiced his concerns, but his actions speak louder for his trust in you, despite his prudence. Many a man has tried to curry his favor or attempt to deceive him within the court. If you would forgive him, I would be truly grateful.”

Robin blinked as she saw a hint of something in Emmeryn’s eyes at that. How much had she and Frederick seen in the Ylissean court, that she would feel so deeply for Frederick’s wariness? “Of course, milady,” Robin nodded and bowed, understanding that there was more to this than just themselves.

“Thank you, Chrom, Lissa, for your openness and trust in others.” Emmeryn said to her siblings. “Prince Frederick is blessed to have retainers so willing to have faith.”

Lissa beamed, “Yeah, well, Frederick’s so stiff, he needs us to help him loosen up once in a while!” She jabbed him with her elbow. “No way we’re letting our prince fight for the whole halidom all by his lonesome, so we’ll be there to make him friends along the way!”

Frederick cleared his throat. “And for that you have my gratitude. The formation of the Shepherds and your eager recruitment efforts have served our people well. In spite of my misgivings, I pray you both will continue on as you were… to an extent.” Frederick couldn’t even thank them without qualifying the statement, as if he were constantly afraid they’d take things a step too far. Robin rolled their eyes… even if some small part of them agreed that his caution was warranted.

Frederick turned to Phila with a steady gaze. “Lady Phila, am I right to assume you’ve heard about the deathly creatures we encountered?”

Phila nodded, “Yes, milord. They’ve been sighted all across Ylisse. At the moment, their numbers are sparse, but our patrols have been ordered to remain on-guard should a group take the offensive. As it stands, we believe we do not have the manpower to make a concerted extermination effort.”

“Chrom, Prince Frederick, we are about to hold council. If you would come with me…” Emmeryn said, turning around and heading deeper into the castle. Chrom nodded to Robin before following her and Frederick.

Lissa turned to Robin with a big smile. “I think that’s our cue, Robin! C’mon, there’s a place I gotta show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Shepherds! Now with new classes! Yes, Minerva is still Cherche's wyvern, Virion's just borrowing her :P.  
> Look forward to next chapter, where a certain someone experiences one of the bigger roleswaps in this AU.


	3. Meet the Gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin is introduced to the rest of the Shepherds, the audience is introduced to Ylissean politics, and some Risen are introduced to the grim reaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2: The Shepherds  
> The parts of this chapter that go over what we see in game are pretty barebones, but I hope everyone enjoys them, and more importantly, enjoys the things the game doesn't show you!

The Shepherds’ Garrison, as near as Robin could tell, was what used to be an older military barracks set against the back of Castle Ylisstol. The building had no connecting doors into the castle, but it was easily the closest building one can be in without being in the castle itself. The garrison had two floors, but judging by the number of people Lissa had been talking about, less than a fraction of the first floor was currently occupied. Robin spied Virion tending to Minerva in the stables as they approached the front doors.

Lissa threw open the doors with a flourish, shouting, “Here we are! Welcome to the Shepherds’ garrison.” She waved Robin in with a deep bow and wide grin. “Make yourself at home, my liege.” Robin stepped inside and took a look around the main hall as their eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting. Frankly, the room was a bit of a mess. There were boxes and gear strewn everywhere, with tables and chairs set up with no rhyme or reason. A handful of people had been milling about and turned to watch Robin be ushered in. There was a woman in armor, heavier than what Lissa wore, but similar, in a delightful shade of rose gold. Or maybe it was more of a rose silver? Was that even a color? Robin thought for a moment that they saw the movement of robes, but they blinked and it was gone, so they quickly forgot about it. A blonde man in incredibly light armor… and no shirt, was gawking at them. No wonder he was so tan if that iron collar and leather arm guard were all he had on his torso regularly.

From behind a pile of boxes a short blonde woman wearing simple pink clothing came dashing out. “Lissa? Milady! Are you alright? Oh please tell me you are, I’ve been on pins and needles!”

Lissa smiled relaxedly. “What’s up, Maribelle?”

“‘What’s up’? Lissa, milady, I had heard you and the others had arrived in Ylisstol earlier this morning. When you didn’t return to the garrison, I feared the worst!”

“Aw, you worry too much. I can handle a battle or two! Frederick even said he’d help me ‘steady my lance arm’ once he’s back from the council meeting. I’m a real Shepherd now,” Lissa declared, striking a valiant pose with her fists on her hips.

The half-naked musclehead cut in, “Hey, squirt! Where’s your bro, Chrom? He probably had it real rough out there without ya boy and his trusty axe!”

Lissa rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. “I think ‘ya boy’ should grow up, Vaike. Or maybe you should just go back to school since you’re so thick.”

“Ha! No one’s thicker than the Vaike!” Vaike declared proudly, before stopping and thinking for a second. “...Wait, was that an insult?”

The woman in pink armor spoke up, “Beg pardon, but when might we see the captain?”

Maribelle turned to Lissa. “Poor Sumia has been absolutely beside herself with concern, milady… Her eyes have been scanning the horizon for the troop’s arrival all day during training.” Her voice dropped down to a whisper. “She might have earned fewer bruises sparring with a blindfold on,” she added with a giggle.

Lissa smiled at Sumia. “It’s sweet of you to worry about Chrom, Sumia.”

Sumia blushed. “Worry? Well, I… he’s our captain and commander--of course I’d worry! If something happened to him, Prince Frederick would only have you as his guard.”

Lissa’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, are you saying I’m not good enough to protect him on my own?”

Vaike cleared his throat as Sumia stumbled over an apology. “So, who’s the stranger?” He asked, his eyes giving Robin a once over. They suddenly felt self-conscious, overcome with the feeling that he was undressing them with his eyes.

“You’re the strange one, Vaike… But allow me to introduce you, one and all, to Robin!” Lissa flared out her hands and twiddled her fingers dramatically. “Having only _just_ joined the Shepherds, my brother’s made them our newwww tactician!” Robin glanced at her sideways. Why did they suddenly feel like some kind of grand prize being won by the Shepherds? “You should SEE all the tricks they’ve got up their sleeves!”

“Betcha they can’t do this!” Vaike exclaims before letting out a deep belly burp.

Robin snorts and stifles a giggle. “‘Ya boy’ is truly a master of the belching arts, Vaike.” They turned to the others in the room. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” they said with a small bow.

Maribelle looked aghast at Vaike. “Please, Vaike, that was abhorrent! Can you not muster up even a modicum of decorum in the presence of nobility? And Robin, please! Don’t encourage him!” Her expression screamed condescension, but her tone was pleading. “We must conduct ourselves with propriety. You understand, yes?” With that, she turned on her heel and left, heading down a hall that Robin presumed must have led to her quarters.

Sumia spoke up, “Don’t mind her, Robin. Maribelle takes this kind of stuff really seriously.”

Lissa laughed, “Or takes it too far! Hee hee! She’s a stickler, but she’s a lot of fun if you give her time.” Lissa turned to the doors and her mouth formed a hard line. “Now we just wait for Chrom and Frederick to finish the council meeting. That’ll take forever…”

~~~

 _This is taking forever…_ Chrom thought to himself as he listened to Frederick and Emmeryn go back and forth with the council members. He was really only half-paying attention, a solid 50% increase of how much he usually listened. The councilmen represented the interests of their respective realms in Ylisse, while Hierarch Lowell represented Ylisstol alongside Emmeryn. From what Chrom could gather, the councilmen were pointing fingers at Plegia for the recent troubles, and insisted the Risen, as they’d come to call them, were the result of Plegian dark magic.

“I will not stand idly by while my countrymen wage war on our neighbors,” Emmeryn said with a quiet firmness. She was an expert at that. Someone who looked at her would think his older sister was a gentle, polite woman, but anyone who ever engaged her in conversation would find the woman stubborn as an ox and unshakable in resolve. Much to the delight of the people, she wanted nothing more than to forge a peace between Ylisse and its neighbors in the time since their father and King Alexander died in the last battle of the Ylissean Crusades, as the war came to be called. King Alexander was pushed to start the war by Falchion’s Chosen, Chrom’s father, Richter. How Falchion had ever chosen a man so brutish and vile, Chrom will never know. Emmeryn said he hadn’t always been like that, but Chrom couldn’t see it.

“Who else but Plegia’s Witch Queen Aversa could be behind the creation of these monstrosities, Lady Emmeryn? Has your father’s prophecy come to pass? Is Grima’s time nigh?” One of the councilmen asked, paranoia laced in his every word. That’s right, Emmeryn said that their father had begun suffering horrid nightmares when Chrom was too young to remember. Something about a demon child being born in Plegia, the vessel that would beckon Grima’s return. A bunch of nonsense spouted by a grimleaphobic bastard.

“Queen Aversa has taken every step to work with us to forge peace, Lord Heinrich. She even banished every member of the Grimleal cult Plegia could find, without prompting!” Frederick said loudly with conviction. “If the coming of the Risen is at all tied with Grima, we should be looking north, to the refugees in Regna Ferox.” There had been reports from many Feroxi immigrants since the end of the war that Grimleal fanatics had taken up in Ferox after Aversa cast them out. It made sense to hide there. The Grimleal in Plegia blamed the cult for the crusades, calling them terrorists and blasphemers against the true word of Grima. Chrom understood the politics of the situation, if not the religious aspect.

“If I may have a word, milord and milady?” One of the quieter councilmen chimed in. Frederick shared a look with Emmeryn before nodding to him. “While the Risen are surely a pressing issue, it is my duty to inform you that the Duke of Farfort has requested aid in ridding their lands of the bandits that have been raiding their farms since last moon.” At that, the other councilmen began shouting angrily at him for _daring_ to do his job rather than warmonger.

“Lord Carter, I’ll have you know that you are weighing the needs of all Ylisse against what? The property of pig farmers?” One of the councilmen jeered.

Chrom scowled. “Those ‘pig farmers’ are the ones feeding all of Ylisse, Lord Robert.”

The councilman shot him the stink eye. “Sir Chrom, there will be no one left to feed if we do not stop the Risen menace at its source!”

Emmeryn cleared her throat. “My brother is right.” Chrom smiled at her, knowing that she had taken his side.

“But milady-”

“No. You would allow our crops to burn to chase a source we cannot confirm exists to a problem we do not understand?” Emmeryn asked, staring Lord Robert and the other dissenters down. “The Risen are aimless and only a threat when they come across victims to attack. So long as our people remain vigilant, they should remain safe. Until such time comes that we have a dedicated force to clear out these bands of undead, that will have to suffice, and in the meantime we will _not_ leave our people to starve because we did not protect our farms. Are we clear?” She asked, in a tone of voice that made it obvious she wasn’t asking a question. The councilmen muttered their agreement.

Chrom spoke up, “I would be happy to lead the Shepherds against the bandits at Farfort.” Lord Carter gave a small smile while the other councilmen stewed.

“And I shall be accompanying them so that I may meet with the Duke and personally see to the matter of reparations,” Frederick said firmly, before standing up, causing everyone else to follow him. “And with that, I call this meeting adjourned. For the consideration of our next council, I put forward the matter of coronation. To be held upon my return. Good day.” Chrom couldn’t help but be impressed as Frederick made a swift exit out of the meeting room with Emmeryn behind him while the councilmen went into an uproar. He smirked as he quickly caught up with them, with Phila at Emmeryn’s side, having waited by the door.

“That was not very kind of you, milord,” Emmeryn spoke softly, with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“It has not been kind of them to delay my coronation for their petty reasons. They held more power while the crown remain unworn,” Frederick replied, making his way down the halls towards the entrance of the castle.

“It’s true that you have been of age for almost a decade now,” Emmeryn said without looking at him.

“They had said I was too young. _We_ were too young. We had spent 7 years fixing the mistakes of our fathers, and another 9 thereafter running our kingdom and country. If a lack of political experience was their true excuse, I would have been coronated 5 years ago, at most.”

“Well, I think we’ve done a wonderful job in spite of it all, milord. You and I deconstructed the military and brought forward peace treaties before either of us had reached our tenth year. Our people were no longer starving by the time of your eleventh.” She smiled at him. “You should be proud.”

Frederick looked at her with a raised eyebrow before turning forward again. “I could not have done it without you by my side, Lady Emmeryn.”

Emmeryn laughed, “Of course not, Prince Frederick.”

Chrom had to stop himself from laughing as he watched Phila seethe. She always hated when Frederick and Emmeryn talked like this. She looked his way and her eyes screamed _Are they going to stop talking like we’re not even here?_ Emmeryn bid he and Frederick farewell when she and Phila turned the corner towards her quarters.

Chrom came forward to Frederick’s side as he noticed that Frederick wasn’t heading to his room. “We had a long ride over here, Frederick. You should probably get some rest.”

“Absolutely not. The Shepherds need to be informed of our upcoming march to Farfort, and there will be time to train while there is still daylight.” Frederick continued marching along without even looking Chrom’s way.

He rolled his eyes. “Frederick, I can tell the Shepherds. You should get some rest.”

Frederick finally looked at him, only to cock an eyebrow and say, “Do _you_ intend to rest? Or are you going to be sparring with Robin until supper before passing out in your room at the garrison?”

Chrom opened his mouth to protest only to realize that of course that’s what he was going to do. He sighed and let it go while Frederick did that throaty chuckle he knew Chrom hated so much. Frederick was making his way to the training yard while Chrom was headed into the garrison itself to tell the others about their next mission. “Not going to at least say hello to the others, milord?” Chrom asked snidely.

“You know where to find me, and so will they if you care to tell them. Until then, Chrom,” he answered without turning around. Gods above, but the man was a workaholic even outside his office.

Chrom opened the doors to the garrison to find the usual crowd lounging about. Robin already seemed to be fitting right in. Sumia was the first to speak up; not much of a surprise since her eyes were apparently trained on the doors. “Captain, you’re back! I was--I mean, we were so--” She hadn’t taken two steps before slipping on a couple of papers that were on the ground, _I think I saw mention of a shortage of swords. Must be the inventory report._

“Sumia! Are you alright?” He called out with a grimace as Sumia pushed herself up off the ground. “Those, uh, boots of yours again?” He asked jokingly. What a quaint excuse she always used!

“No! I mean, yes! I mean…” She sighed and quieted down. Chrom took the opportunity to raise his arm up and call the others to attention.

“Alright everyone, listen up: in the morning, we’ll be marching to the Farfort.” Robin quickly whispered to Lissa, probably asking what or where the Farfort is, and he let Lissa answer before continuing, “We’ll be clearing out a bandit problem they’ve been having; it’s disrupting the harvest that’s feeding the halidom. We’ll have to be ready for an encounter with the Risen while we march. This mission is strictly voluntary. So, if for any-”

“I volunteer!” Chrom couldn’t even finish before someone cut him off. Lissa was already raising her hand high and bouncing on her heels.

Vaike was quick to follow. “Me too! You’ll be needin’ ya boy around to cut down a buncha crop-stompin’ thugs.”

“‘Risen’?” Robin asked, speaking over someone else.

“We needed a name for this new threat, and the council gave them one. I’d have called them Fallen myself,” Chrom answered.

“I… I, um…” Sumia tried to speak up, but was sweating nervously.

“Yes, Sumia?” Chrom asked, hoping a little prompting would get her out of her shell.

Sumia started wringing her hands as she spoke, “It’s just that… I’m not sure I’m quite ready for a proper mission just yet. I’d probably just get in the way.”

Chrom gave a small chuckle. “Well, you won’t get any experience sitting in the garrison, so you can follow behind the main group, and once the fighting starts, you can watch and learn.” Chrom shrugged his shoulders. “Your choice, of course. But it’s the only way to learn some lessons.”

Sumia bowed slightly. “If you think it wise, Captain. I’ll stay behind you.”

“Staying directly behind the captain would be ill-advised. As he fights on the frontlines, being within his immediate vicinity invites danger if one is not prepared for combat,” a stoic voice called out from the hall. Miriel emerged, her pointed hat sitting firmly upon her head as she adjusted her glasses.

“I-I know that!” Sumia protested. Chrom laughed as everyone went back about their usual businesses, which included telling Vaike to hold off on his daily sparring challenges so he could show Robin around.

“So, Robin, we’ve got a lot of rooms available. Any ideas what you would like yours to be like?” He asked.

Robin seemed to think on it for a moment. “Have you any rooms with a lot of books?”

~~~

Chrom had to admit, seeing Robin go all quiet when he showed them the old book depository was pretty great, but he didn’t want to miss the opportunity to spar with them before they buried their nose in something from their wide selection.

Once they arrived at the training yard, Chrom unsheathed Falchion and gave it a few experimental one-handed twirls. Robin held up their bronze sword in a two-handed grip. “You’re sure it’ll be alright to use actual weaponry?” They asked, eyeing their own weapon nervously as if it might wrench itself free from their control and inflict harm upon him.

Chrom let out a nonchalant laugh and nodded in Miriel’s direction, a pen and paper in hand with her staff in the crux of her arm. “Any damage we do, Miriel can fix. Plus, real weapons will carry the same weight that they will in combat, so it’s important to practice with them when possible.” At that, Chrom took a wide stance, holding Falchion out in front of him, “On three.”

Robin, on their end, took a more lithe stance, holding their sword back, still two-handed, their legs bent slightly as if coiling to pounce on him.

“One.”

“Two.”

“THREE!”

Chrom rushed Robin, bringing his divine blade over and down in a flurry of strikes. Robin, to their credit, fended him off just fine, parrying or dodging him with relative ease. It seemed like whenever his blows were powerful enough to break their guard, they dodged instead, and when they were precise enough to hit, Robin blocked them. It was infuriating!

After Chrom mistakenly overextended himself, Robin rushed into the offensive, bringing their blade to bear against his armor. Chrom didn’t like to think of himself as slow, but he simply couldn’t keep up with Robin’s assault as he jumped back to gain some distance. His chest had a new gash across it, his right arm was sporting a deep cut, and Chrom could feel that he was already losing. Robin’s stance was more relaxed now, and Chrom could see in their eyes that they knew their attacks had had the desired effect. His dominant arm was weaker, and his chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath.

However, Ylissean training prided itself on endurance, and Chrom pushed that element of surprise to his advantage as he suddenly lunged at Robin. They managed to partially deflect that strike, but he still managed to get a hit in on Robin’s side. This time it was Robin on the receiving end of a beating as Chrom picked up the pace and fought through the pain. He could see the shock settling in as Robin realized they’d underestimated him, and before long, Chrom forced them to perform a two-handed block, opening a window for him to bring his palm against their elbow and disarm them. Robin immediately ducked down low as Chrom swiped at their exposed flank as they scrambled for their sword. Chrom’s foot found it first and kicked it away as he brought the blade down to Robin’s face, panting from the exertion. Robin held up their hands and laughed slightly, “Okay, okay, I yield.”

Chrom sheathed Falchion and helped Robin to their feet as Miriel came over to heal them. Almost immediately she began rattling off her analysis of their fight. Robin looked spellbound while Chrom simply rubbed his decreasingly aching wounds.

Once they both had an opportunity to sit down, Robin let out a loud sigh as they drank deeply from the waterskin he’d given them. “I have to say, Chrom, I’m glad you put me on your side.”

“I’d say I'm the one who lucked out on this one. Bar none the only person I’ve sparred with that fought so damn smart was Frederick. It felt like I was a puzzle you were trying to solve.” Chrom leaned back on the bench and gazed up at the sky, the sun slowly creeping down as the afternoon continued.

“Well that’s what the body is: a puzzle. Hit it in the right places and the whole thing comes crashing down,” Robin explained.

“In a real fight, those attacks would’ve crippled your opponent, easy,” Chrom said. “Everyone always says they’ll spar like they mean it, but that’s the thing: no one ever fights like they’re trying to kill you unless they intend to.” He looked to them. “How hard you fight in the training yard will never be half as hard as you fight on the battlefield, no matter how hard you try.”

Robin sighed, “I suppose I’ll have to keep that in mind. I know what you mean though; if I had been meaning to kill you, your arm would be short a pound of flesh,” they said with a laugh that sounded more genuine than Chrom cared to admit. They seemed to think for a second before turning to him, “Hey, Chrom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know how to use a rapier?”

Chrom looked at them cockeyed. “What? Of course I do!”

“I don’t think you do.”

“You saw me using it against the bandits and Risen, didn’t you?”

“I saw you swinging a rapier around like an idiot is what I saw, Chrom.” He clenched his teeth at the insult. “It’s a _stabbing_ weapon, Chrom. You’re supposed to pierce through the enemy’s defenses with its fine tip, not flail it around like you do.”

To this day, no one had ever hurt Chrom so deeply. How could they?

... _How come_ _no one told him about this earlier?!_

~~~

The march started out rocky. Vaike lost his axe twice, and an archer named Stahl showed up late with his bow’s string half unstrung since apparently no one told him about the mission. Robin quickly accounted for a new battle formation keeping in mind his need for distance, and it wasn’t halfway through the first day that they ran into their first skirmish. The group of Risen shambled aimlessly around the fields on both sides of a river, blocking the bridge across. Chrom and Frederick both looked to them for how to proceed, and Robin didn’t hesitate to pull their formation together. Lissa flew Robin up on top of the northern hill while everyone else had received their commands. Vaike and Sully made an effective pair, cutting off the southern Risen with their sword and axe. Robin kept Chrom close by while Frederick guarded Miriel and Stahl held back behind Frederick to fire on anyone who got too close. It wasn’t long until the west plains were clear and the Shepherds regrouped at the bridge.

Robin called down Virion from his aerial recon and set up a strong defensive position as they crossed into the eastern plains. A lancer and mercenary Risen charged, meeting with little success against Minerva’s hard scales and Frederick’s armor. Virion handed his handaxe off to Vaike who took down the lancer from behind the frontline and Stahl sniped the merc from a safe distance. Frederick and Virion managed to recover the Risen’s weapons, and Robin happily directed the lance to Frederick and the sword to Sully. The Risen that seemed to be the leader of the troop was even easier to dispatch than the last one, and Miriel kept everyone in good shape the entire fight. Robin couldn’t help but think as the Shepherds pulled the convoy forward to continue the march that if all of their fights were going to be this easy, then serving as the Shepherds’ tactician was going to be a cakewalk.

So of course, every battle to come would be all the harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun writing the sparring session with Robin and Chrom. It was a simple fight, but then again they're only like, what, level 4? Next time they spar it'll be a much bigger fight.
> 
> Note: Did you know that the reason for Vaike's nickname 'Teach', is because the localization team didn't have an English equivalent to the Japanese self-referential pronoun 'Ore-sama'. Instead, they simply had Vaike refer to himself in the third person and call himself Teach in an attempt to portray the manner of arrogant self-aggrandizement lost in translation.
> 
> However, in Pokemon Sun and Moon, Team Skull Leader Guzma also used 'Ore-sama', and was translated to 'Ya boy', which I find to be a much more apt translation. Thus! Ya boy Vaike!


	4. Sickles and Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Shepherds arrive at the island of Farfort, and lend their aid to the young son of the duke in ending the bandit menace!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paralogue 1: Sickle to Sword  
> Donnel's a noble! His dad's alive! And Generic Bandit Boss #5812 gets to be a little less generic! All this, and more.

The Shepherds arrived at Farfort at dusk of their second day of marching. The dukedom of Farfort consisted of an island off the southeastern coast of Ylisse, connected to the mainland by a well-constructed bridge. No sooner had the Shepherds crossed over did they meet with trouble.

“Come on then, you runt. What’s a little lordling like you going to do against tough guys like us, eh?” A rough-looking brigand was taunting a young man with dark messy hair astride a brown horse.

“I reckon my pa wouldn’t take none a’this lyin’ down, ya rotten-toothed, pig-stinkin’ bandit!” The cavalier shot back, raising his lance high.

“Yer pa’s not here, piglet, hehehe…” The brigand moved in, the handful of men behind him raising their weapons and following, just as the Shepherds cleared the bridge. 

“But we are!” Chrom called out as he raced to the young man’s side, lifting Falchion in his defense.

The brigand’s eyes went wide. “Aw, damn me! Sh-Shepherds!” He stepped back, his and his men’s bravado fading fast.

 **“** That’s right,” Chrom said, lifting his head up and slamming Falchion into the ground. “So, what’ll it be? Run and live? Or fight and die?” He cocked his head as he delivered his ultimatum. Lissa, Frederick, and Virion arrived with their mounts, corroborating his threat.

“Rrgh!” The brigand grunted before turning and retreating with his men.

“Hoo-WEE! Them varmints ran off like right chickens when you showed up, milord. Thank ya kindly,” the young man said with a nod and gave what bow he could atop his horse.

“Quickly, we’ll want to catch up to them before long. What’s your name, lad?” Chrom asked, sheathing his sword while the Shepherds' infantry units, and Miriel, caught up to them.

“Donnel, milord. My pa’s the duke a’this here island.”

Frederick drew his horse up alongside Donnel’s. “Ah, Donnel, it’s a pleasure. We must move quickly; we’ll not want the bandits to regroup and prepare for our arrival.”

“Prince Frederick! Your Lordliness!” Donnel hastily attempted another bow. “It’s an honor to be graced with your presence.”

“Now is not the time for pleasantries. What do you know about these brigands, and have you any plans for proceeding now that we have answered your call for aid?”

Donnel recomposed himself, “Of course, milord. Them good-fer-nothin’s been makin’ a right mess down here, and we’s mostly farmfolk, so my pa’s not got the manpower to put ‘em down! I can lead ya right to their camp, I betcha we can clear them out ‘fore sunrise, if’n we move quick-like.”

Chrom turned to the others. “You heard him,” he shouted. “We’ll be following Donnel’s lead! Keep it moving, everyone!”

~~~

Chrom kept close to young Donnel as they made their way through the night to the bandit’s camp. “That was quite impressive, what you did back there, Donnel,” Chrom said, looking up at him. “There aren’t many men, even among soldiers, that can stare down a group of bandits alone.”

“Hehe, well sir, I ain’t just some lord’s kid, and I ain’t no soldier neither. My pa had a sayin’, ‘Ain’t no man fit to rule his land if’n he can’t work it.’” Donnel replied.

Chrom blinked. “And what does that mean?”

“Means I didn’t grow up all pampered at home. I worked the land, right along with ma and pa, same as any farmer. And a sickle ain’t too far from a sword, if ya think about it,” Donnel said with a shrug.

Chrom nodded in agreement. “Your father sounds like a wise man. I’m glad I took Lord Carter’s side in lending you aid.”

“Ya don’t say?” Donnel said with surprise. “Us farmfolk got the backin’ a’ one of Naga’s chosen? Well butter my biscuits, milord. That’s mighty kind of ya.”

“Your people are our people,” Chrom answered firmly. “It’s our duty to protect you, as sure as it’s our duty to protect the people of Ylisstol.”

Lissa came back from her scouting mission. “Chrom! We’ve got some kinda keep up ahead, just like he said.”

Donnel nodded, “Tha’s right, they’s holed up in their like mice. Time to clear ‘em out!”

“Alright, Donny, we’ll take it from here,” Chrom said, moving forward with the Shepherds Robin had picked out for the infiltration team. “You can let your father know these vagabonds won’t be a problem anymore.”

Donnel looked at him with surprise. “Beg pardon, milord? I wasn’t waitin’ by that bridge all day just to say my howdy-do’s! I’m fightin’ with ya!”

Chrom stopped for a moment. “Oh, sorry. I just assumed…” Chrom shook his head. “You’re welcome aboard. You’ve all the makings of a fine warrior, Donny. Bravery and dedication will take you far.” He turned to the rest of the group. “Everyone in place?”

“AYE!” A rallying cry went up from the Shepherds. 

“Then let’s get moving!” Chrom threw his cape backward as he moved forward to the camp, as the infiltrators followed him whilst the rest began making their way around the perimeter to cut the brigand’s off if they intended to run.

From atop the encampment’s walls, the Shepherds could see a number of bandits lined up. The meanest looking one gave a deep, sarcastic bow. “Why, yer Majestyful! And O’, Great Exalted One! It is an _honor_ that ya’d grace our humble home,” the man orated, with a sickly grin, setting his men alight with snickers and guffaws.

“Roddick, you lily-livered hornswogglin’ boar’s ass! Y’wouldn’t know honor if it kicked ya in the head!” Donnel called out to the bandit leader.

Roddick put his hand to his chest and frowned deeply. “Why, lord Donnel! I do declare it is a _damnable shame_ that you think that! Why, me an’ my boys’re just tryin’a make a livin’s all. Is that so bad?”

Chrom scowled. Frederick spoke up, “There’s nothing more shameful than stealing the livelihoods of others, Roddick.”

Chrom added, “If you’d taken up honest work, you wouldn’t have us at your doorstep. Now you will pay for your crimes!” He cried, drawing his sword.

“What? And miss the opportunity to meet the lords and heroes of the realm?” Roddick’s grin turned wicked. “Never. GIT ‘EM, BOYS!”

As if a trap had been sprung, the brigands lifted their axes up and threw them, and Chrom found himself at the epicenter of a hurricane of blades. With little time to react, Chrom threw his cape out in front of him, trying to put his shoulder guard in between himself and the onslaught, when suddenly a juggernaut of armor rushed him and placed its shield in between him and the handaxes. Chrom looked up to see none other than...

“Sumia…?” Chrom’s mouth fell open as he watched the demure knight clad in pink stave off the assault.

Sumia turned to look at him confidently. “Better stay close captain. This could be rough.”

“Uh… right.”

Sumia flashed him a grin. “You’ll be fine.”

Robin called out to the infiltration team. “Alright everybody, we’ve got Donnel and Sumia as reinforcements, and some brigand’s on the outside thinking they can get the better of us from our flank! Let’s roll!”

And just like that, the battle began. Robin started things off by maneuvering the Shepherds back behind the cover of the trees and sending Donnel and Sumia north to manage the men outside the fort, while keeping an eye along the walls. Donnel managed to nick a key to the fort gates off one of the brigands just as Sully and Vaike found a hole in the wall to pass through. Miriel supported the myrmidon and fighter as they started cutting down the brigands that tried to plug the hole, while Robin moved with Frederick towards the gate. Once Donnel opened it, Robin had Sumia join Chrom in pushing inside the fort, cutting off a northern hallway and funneling the brigands through it while they cleaned up the southern halls with Frederick.

Chrom fended off the axe users with ease with Sumia backing him up, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of someone watching him. Not only that, but it seemed like any scratch he took from the bandits faded away instantly. It was then that he heard something, like a breeze in the wind… “...-ir? ...Sir! Right here, sir!”

Chrom whipped around trying to find the source of the voice. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

And just like that. Silence, again. “...-ing in plain sight, sir.” And Chrom blinked, and suddenly a large man in holy garb appeared out of thin air. “Right he-”

“BWAAAH!” Chrom cried out in surprise to see someone so large appear so suddenly before recognizing the man. “Oh! I-is that you, Kellam? When did you arrive?”

Kellam’s eyebrows furrowed. “...The same time as you. I’ve been with you all along. Er, I AM still a Shepherd, right? It’s quite the honor after all. …” Kellam’s words trailed off quietly.

“Of course, Kellam. Forgive me.” Chrom frowned. “You're just so… quiet, I completely-”

Kellam cut him off, “Quite all right, sir, quite all right. I've been told I'm easy to miss.”

Chrom shrugged. “At least the brigands didn't find you,” he said with a laugh.

Kellam’s mouth pulled to one side, “I've been calling to you and waving my arms for several minutes… I don't think they've so much as glanced this way.”

“You almost sound disappointed,” Chrom said with a raised eyebrow.

Kellam smiled. “Well, I just… I'm glad you finally saw me! Just try to keep an eye out from now on?” He lifted his staff and Robin seemed to take notice, directing him to come to their side while they had Frederick cut off a thief in the hallway going north while Sully and Vaike cornered an archer.

And before long, the bandit gang had been reduced from nearly two dozen men to less than half that.

~~~

Roddick was getting nervous. He’d pulled back with a few archers to the north hall with a few axemen guarding the eastern door. But things had quieted down. And stayed quiet. Surely those lousy Shepherds didn’t just up and leave, right? What, had they raided his treasury and booked it? That was just ridiculous, and yet…

“Oy, lardass!” He called out to the lug outside the doorway. “Get movin', and tell me what in the hells is going on out there!”

“Aight, boss.” The fat idiot lumbered down the hall to investigate. He never came back.

~~~

“Okay, what in the hells is going on in here?” Frederick returned from clearing out the bandits’ treasury in the north, and taking care of an axeman that came lumbering out from somewhere to the north, to find a terrified archer taking potshots at Vaike from behind a wall made up of Chrom, Sully, and Donnel. Miriel was tending to Vaike’s constant stream of arrow wounds.

“Staff training!” Robin declared proudly, as if this asinine setup was the most sensible thing in the world.

Frederick raised an eyebrow, prompting Miriel to speak up. “Mastery of the healing arts is a slow process that requires extensive exposure and experience to the treatment of battlefield wounds. However, patching up scratches and bruises from sparring matches has proven insufficient in improving the extent of one’s healing magic. Thus, our current predicament.” Gods, but the woman could make anything sound like it was being transcribed into a very weighty textbook.

“Ain’t no hole you can put in ya boy Vaike that can stop this muscle train-OW!” Vaike’s boast was cut short by an arrow to the bicep. However, like magic, the arrow seemed to fall out of his arm and the wound closed up almost instantly. “The hell? Yo, Miriel, you learnin’ how to heal without even raisin’ your staff now?” He asked the loquacious troubadour.

“Nonsense.” Miriel adjusted her glasses. “If your wound has already been treated, you can thank Kellam for his vigilance.”

“Kellam?” Vaike looked around the room. “I don’t see the big guy anywhere! You playin’ ya boy for a fool?” He jeered at Miriel.

“...right here, Vaike…” Frederick managed, for just a moment, to see Kellam fading into the background of the room. The prince smiled. Perhaps it did little help for his social standing, but the man was an excellent healer. His ability to completely dissociate from the perception of others was uncanny and ceratinly helpful in keeping him alive whilst he was yet untrained in weaponry.

Robin spoke up, “We’ll clear out Roddick and the others as soon as I’ve gotten Miriel and Kellam properly trained. The perimeter guard has all the exits cut off, so you don’t have to worry about them escaping, Prince Frederick.”

Frederick stared Robin down as he considered the value of this enigmatic strategy. Save the possibility of a hidden escape route, he could see no harm in allowing the Shepherds’ healers an opportunity to train their staff skills. It would certainly explain Robin’s insistence on purchasing several Heal staves from the armorer in Southtown.

~~~

Donnel saw the sweat dripping down Roddick’s face as Robin ordered him forward. They’d told some hard-to-find guy named Kellam to watch his back and granted his request to face off against the dastard alone. “‘S’just you an’ me, Roddy.”

Roddick scowled, holding his blood red axe in front of him. “Don’t go actin’ like we’re pals, you lil silver spoon suckin’ pig’s shit,” he snarled, hocking a thick loogy at Donnel’s feet.

Donny frowned. So this was it, huh? “You coulda been a fine man, Roddy. My pa’d’a been happy to help you out when yer harvest came up short, but you went and razed Ol’ Man Eustace’s farm instead! What happened to you?”

“I learned that ain’t no fancy pants noble gonna make me bend the knee when I can make my own livin’ by my own damn self. So here’s what I gotta say to you and yer pa, Donny...” Roddick rushed forward, and Donnel was thankful that Robin had thought to give him their spare Bronze Sword. He pulled the green blade up and caught the man’s axe swing at the hilt before it could reach his face. Roddick was only a few inches from his face, “I’m gon’ make yer pa feel your blood on my axe when I kill him after I kill you, _boy_ ,” he spat.

Donnel pushed back against his axe and pulled back, bringing his gal Betsy out and around and charging Roddick with a forceful stab. His blade pushed hard against Roddick’s muscled gut, and Donny pulled back and winced as the man’s blood ran fresh from the wound. Roddick roared as he flung his axe right at Betsy’s neck, but it never made it to her skin when some sort of wind or something knocked it off course. Donnel could’ve almost sworn he heard someone tell Roddick to back off, but it was so damn quiet he wasn’t sure it wasn’t just his imagination. Donnel rushed forward again and feigned down before slashing Roddick’s left arm. Roddick seemed to use his pain as a motivator to strike back, and slashed a deep wound into Donnel’s side. As he cried out in pain, Donnel focused and pulled back on Betsy’s reins, causing her to rear back with a whinny. “Git ready!” He shouted, as Betsy stomped down on Roddick, pinning him to the floor by his hips as Donnel leapt from his mount and plunged his sword down into the bandit’s chest.

Roddick let out one final cough as his final breaths were being pulled out by the blade in his lungs. “Gahaugh! Nngh… this ain’t… where…” Roddick didn’t finish his last sentence, but Donny knew what he was going to say. The poor farmer had always said he’d wanted to die on his farm, not fighting on some noble’s battlefield. Donnel wasn’t amused by the irony of the man’s death, that he’d died on a battlefield of his own creation.

~~~

“I’d like ta offer my humble thanks to you, Sir Chrom and milord Prince Frederick, for coming to our aid.” The Duke of Farfort nodded his head in supplication.

Frederick nodded in response. “It was our pleasure, Duke Harrison. And our duty, to you and the halidom at large. We are not wont to forget the service you and your people do for the country as farmers.”

The duke laughed deeply, “Hohoho! Please, milord, call me Harry. Darn near everyone in Farfort does. My boy Donny’ll tell ya there ain’t a man on this island who ain’t on a first name basis with me.”

Frederick chuckled, “As you wish, Harry.”

Chrom chimed in, saying, “Harry, about your son-”

“Oh, I know all ‘bout it, Chrom. My boy damn near bolted off the property once word came y’all were comin’ to help. Said he wouldn’t miss the chance to join you in the good fight if it flew past him on a dragon, hehe.” Harry turned and put his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Well, you’re a man grown now, Donny. I s’pose you can take yer lance an’ do whatever you will. I ain’t stoppin’ ya.”

Donnel’s face flushed and Frederick could see the boy’s eyes watering. “Aw, Pa…”

Duke Harry took a moment before dropping one arm. “…You just come home safe, boy. I’ll see that the farms are still standin’ when you return a hero.” He dropped the other arm and waited. “…Well?! Off with you, then! Glory’s waitin’, boy!” He said with a laugh, pushing Donnel towards the others.

Donnel stumbled and caught himself, turning back to his father. “I’ll make you proud, Pa.” He turned and made his way out of the estate. Harry watched him go with a sad smile.

“...Just come home alive, Donny,” he said softly.

Frederick admired the man’s willingness to let his son go off to fight for his country. It hadn’t been too long ago that the Duke himself had fought alongside Frederick’s father in the Crusades. He knew the horrors that might await his son in future battles. “We shall endeavor to return your son alive, Duke Harry,” Frederick said pointedly. “Our new tactician has taken great strides to ensure that all of the Shepherds make it through each and every battle, and so far their track record is impeccable.” The prince cleared his throat before continuing on to less savory matters. “As for the matter of the current state of Farfort’s finances…”

Chrom needn’t hear another word. He patted Frederick on the shoulder and flashed an insincere smile. “I need to go make sure the Shepherds have settled in, you guys talk business.” Frederick’s retainer made a quick exit from the duke’s entrance hall, leaving Frederick alone with the veteran and father.

“If’n ya don’t mind, Prince Frederick, let’s take this to my study…”

~~~

The next morning, the Shepherds were all abuzz with friendly chatter. Lissa had practically adopted Donnel as her little brother, which she was all too happy to immediately lord over the duke’s son, Miriel took a sudden interest in Vaike’s haphazard fighting style, and unless Frederick was mistaken, Chrom had been making himself scarce ever since Robin asked Sumia to bring him to their strategy meeting. Which of course left Frederick alone with the Plegian tactician to discuss their march back to Ylisstol.

“Given the current makeup of the Shepherds, it would be best to have you and Donnel scout ahead to reduce the risk of an archer ambush downing one of our fliers. And if a battle breaks out, I can provide backline support with Stahl with my magic.” Robin may have been suspicious at first, but Frederick had no doubt that their tactical acumen was nothing if not genuine. However…

“Your magic is an asset, certainly, but Robin, I’m afraid you may be neglecting your physical conditioning.” He spoke clearly, scanning Robin up and down as he analyzed their muscle definition, which was rather low considering they were at least proficient in swordsmanship.

Robin looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Frederick sighed, “I mean, you are relying too heavily on magic. If you were to find yourself without a tome, I fear your swordsmanship alone may not be enough to allow you to overcome your opponent.” He straightened his back, saying, “I believe it is time you and I had a proper training session. Follow me.”

It wasn’t more than a half hour before Robin was collapsed under the weight of their own body from the rigors of Frederick’s training.

“Your grip, stance, and breathing are all wrong. Focus, Robin! Again!” He barked his orders with practiced ease. He’d given the same instruction to Chrom, Sully, Stahl, and even Lissa, after all.

Robin pushed themselves up off the ground and raised their sword, sweat pouring down their face. “Ready!” They cried, but Frederick could see that any more pressure and they were at risk of permanently damaging their body.

“...That’s enough for today. Your form has improved considerably. The pace of your progress is remarkable.” Frederick could see the relief pouring off of Robin like a wave.

Robin gasped for air as their posture slackened. “Th-thanks. I feel like I’ve got the basics… _huff_ ...down now. But…” Their form slipped from slacking to exhausted, “S-so tired… _huff_ I think I’m dying…”

Frederick let out a short laugh. “Hah! You’re exaggerating. Or at least, I pray so. Otherwise you might as well die here-you won’t last long on the battlefield.”

Robin sighed, “I suppose… but I’m exhausted nonetheless.” They sat down, looking up at Frederick with a squint. “But you… you’ve hardly broken a sweat?”

Frederick straightened his shoulders. “I should hope not. If a little training winded me, I would be in no shape to serve Ylisse.”

Robin whistled, “Well, I’m impressed. You must train hard to build such endurance.”

Frederick nodded. “Well, I awaken before dawn each day to read the correspondence sent to the castle… then, when I’ve reviewed my duties for the day, I find what times I will be free to go to the training grounds and exercise.” Frederick smiled as he fondly regarded his daily routine, “And when I’m not meeting with delegates or training, I can be found in my study, reviewing legislature or reading historical texts so as to learn from our past.”

Robin looked shocked. “How does he manage to do nothing but work and train…?” They whispered.

“Beg pardon, did you say something?” He asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Robin waved a hand dismissively. “Er, nothing important. But I owe you for today’s training session, so let me help you with some of your official duties.”

Now _that_ was a surprise. Frederick almost laughed, “...You would delve into court politics? Of your own volition?”

Robin simply shrugged. “How hard could it be? Besides, I could always use more books to read. I already burned through the ones I brought with me from the garrison.”

Frederick smiled. “I am unaccustomed to asking for political advice, but if you insist, I shall try to keep in open mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donnel's a character I've been wanting to write for this fic ever since its inception. Swapping his and Maribelle's social statuses(points to those who picked up on her differences last chapter) was one of the big ideas that drove me to write this fic for witchnyx's AU. I mean, come on, the nobliest of nobles and the most backwater hick wearing each others' shoes? It's too good to pass up!
> 
> Please leave a comment down below with what supports you'd like to see in this fic! A lot of supports will be different, though some will be more of the same. As you can see, some supports haven't changed because some of the characters haven't changed fundamentally.
> 
> But! What about Chrom, now that he's not the prince? What about Frederick, who is? What about Lissa, who's now an armed unit, and Miriel, who's not? The possibilities!
> 
> Please leave a request for a support chain you'd like to see in Heavy is the Head! I can assure you that at the very least you'll see supports between the trio of Chrom, Frederick, and Robin, since they're the main characters.


	5. Coronation Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frederick is crowned the King of Ylisse! And everybody died the end.

A flash of blue hair weaved its way through the crowd gathering outside the castle. Marth, as she had called herself, bit back the nerves that rose within her. It was happening today. Frederick’s coronation. The attack on Ylisstol Castle. The start of a bloody and meaningless war.

Lucina had needed time to gather her bearings when she arrived in the past. It had been remarkably simple to rush into battle with Grima’s first and weakest wave of Risen and aid her father and his companions, but after slipping away, learning just _when_ she’d arrived in the past had required some careful thought. She couldn’t just ask someone for the date; any attempts to do so only gave her the month of August. After almost a week she remembered that King Frederick’s birthday had been in August, and from there she could get a proper year. Her father’s liege made no spectacle of the day of his birth, because of _course_ he didn’t, that would be too easy, but she quickly learned one thing: Frederick was still a prince. He had not been crowned as king yet. And Robin was with them in the forest, which meant Frederick was only 25. The same age he took the crown.

Lucina regretted every minute she’d neglected to study her history as she put all of that together.

And now, just as she’d solved the riddle, she found herself on the brink of war. And she had to try and stop it.

~~~

A week after their return from Farfort, Frederick was ready to declare war on the Ylissean Council. Not literally, mind, but their obtrusive obstructions to the process of planning his coronation were infuriating enough that the prince had thought more than once to mouth them off in a way that would make Chrom and Lissa proud and fill him with shame.

Lord Carter, rightfully, claimed that a coronation would warrant a celebration that Ylisse had not the food to hold. That Lord Robert took his side and began arguing the point to death turned a legitimate concern into a hot-button debacle. Lord Jackson was obsessed with the idea that a coronation would incite civil rebellion for incredibly vague reasons that generally tapered off to the base point that the scoundrel despised Ylisse’s immigrant population and believed them to be plotting the downfall of all civilized society at every turn.

At least Hierarch Lowell and Lord Heinrich were on his side. The Hierarch was as agreeable as ever, and had said he felt the coronation long overdue. Heinrich, on the other hand, took to the matter with a little too much zeal. His argument about Promoting Ylissean Patriotism and creating a Strong Nationalist Identity struck a sour note in Frederick’s mind, though he couldn’t place a finger on why. However, after several long arguments and as many pounding headaches, the coronation ceremony was nigh. Which left some matters to attend to…

“Maribelle says we should dress up for these sorts of occasions! Come on, I want to wear a pretty dress, not my pegasus knight armor!” Lissa moaned. She might not have been so excited if Marbielle hadn’t already made her a dress for the occasion.

“And _I_ say that as Frederick’s honor guard and retainers, we need to be ready for anything! That includes enemies attacking during the ceremony.” Chrom fired back. He’d have been less stubborn about the issue if he hadn’t been expressly prohibited from ripping the sleeve off his formal suit.

They’d been at this for an hour.

“Frederick, tell Chrom that we need to look presentable at the ceremony!”

“Frederick, tell Lissa that we can’t afford to let our guard down!”

“Frederick!”

“Frederick!”

Frederick shot up, slamming his hands on his desk. “Enough!” Chrom and Lissa immediately quit their squabbling and stood at rest. Frederick straightened his posture before continuing. “Ylisse is a halidom at peace now. However, with brigands ever at our doorstep, it is important we show the citizens that we shall protect them, ever vigilant. Let them see our readiness to defend them.”

Lissa pouted as Chrom spoke, “I’ll let the Shepherds know to attend in full armor, sir.”

“Very good. You’re both dismissed.” Frederick sat himself back down at his desk as his friends and retainers left his study. Lissa turned to give her liege one last look as she crossed the threshold. Frederick was resting his chin in between his thumb and forefinger, his eyelids drooping as he stared at the wall as if boring a hole through it. Lissa frowned before turning down the hall in the direction of Emmeryn’s room.

“Sisterrrr!” Lissa called out as she bounded forward, blonde curls bouncing on her head as she arrived outside her sister’s quarters. She was about to open the door when she overheard talking on the other side.

“You have your protective robes on?”

“Yes, Phila.”

“And you have your Elwind tome on your belt?”

Lissa heard a sigh. “ _Yes_ , Phila.”

“And if anything happens-”

“Phila _, please!_ ” Lissa winced as she heard Emm's Big Sister Voice. “If anything happens during the ceremony, I am _not_ going to hide like a scared child! If anyone tries to attack Lord Frederick, I _will_ defend him. I will make no exception.”

“Your Grace, as your retainer, I cannot abide you throwing yourself in front of an arrow for our prince! Can’t you see that everyone, including Frederick, couldn’t bear to lose you?” Phila pleaded.

“Ylisse needs its king, Phila.”

“It needs its Exalt too, Emm!”

“I am not-”

“And don’t you start with that!” Lissa gasped; she’d never heard Phila cut her sister off like that. “You don’t have to slay a dragon to be called an Exalt, Emmeryn! You and Frederick _ended a war!_ As children, no less!”

“Having exalted blood and accomplishing great things does not an Exalt make, Phila. Until I make the pilgrimage to Mount Prism and hold the Fire Emblem aloft to bathe in Naga’s fire, I am unworthy of such a title.” Emmeryn’s voice was calm and smooth.

“Forget the title! You’re _important_ , Emmeryn. Your people need you! Frederick needs you! ...I need you...” Phila’s voice trailed off quietly as she reached the last sentence.

Unable to bear the tension anymore, Lissa knocked hard on the door before coming in. Emmeryn looked as serene as ever, if a little reserved, and Phila looked like she was about to cry before she recomposed herself. “Just came to check on you, Big Sis. Frederick’s having all the Shepherds attend in full armor.”

Emmeryn nodded. “Thank you, Lissa. I’m sure the people will feel safer seeing its vanguard in full.”

Lissa giggled, “Hehe, Freddy said the same thing! But…” She looked Phila’s way for a second before turning back to her sister. “You should go talk to him. I think he might be nervous! Can you believe that? Our Frederick, nervous!”

Emmeryn sighed, “I should have figured he would be, given the circumstances. I shall pay him a visit and see if his nerves can be calmed.” She stood up, her gown splaying out around her gracefully as she passed Lissa by the door and made her way to Frederick’s study.

Lissa turned back to Phila when she heard the pegasus knight sigh. She cocked her head, asking, “What’s wrong, Ph- I mean, Captain Phila? ...Is it about that talk you two were having?”

Phila shook her head, staring at the place where Emmeryn had been sitting. “Your sister is going to get herself killed one of these days, saving Frederick’s ass.”

Lissa snorted with laughter, “ _Snrk_ Oh, please! Frederick can save himself just fine. Trust me, I’ve been there to see him do it, too.”

“So have I.” Phila straightened up, standing at attention. “Lissa, do you know how many assassination attempts have been made against Lord Frederick since the end of the Ylissean Crusades?”

Lissa cringed at the thought. “No…?”

“Dozens, I’m afraid. More than a few of which were also attempts on Lady Emmeryn’s life as well.”

Lissa gasped. “That’s awful! Why didn’t Frederick do something?!”

“He did. Emmeryn’s guards are Ylisse’s best. As you said, in his own words, Frederick can take care of himself; he’s more worried about Emm.” Phila turned to the littlest exalted. “And your sister has, without fail, prioritized the prince’s safety over her own. As soon as an assassin coming after her has been defeated, she rushes off to ensure his safety, even when I tell her to stay in her room to keep safe. She’d always grab her tome and staff and run to his quarters, and I’d have to race after her to protect her.” Phila sighed, looking down.

Lissa’s face fell. “I remember… when I was really little, Emm always said she hated using magic to hurt people, instead of healing them.”

Phila nodded sadly, “That she does. But she’s put those qualms aside to defend the people she loves.” She shook her head, “But never herself, damn her. She’d never hurt someone to save her own life.”

~~~

Robin was just about three quarters of the way through their third stack of books when they just barely recognized the sound of someone knocking at the door. “Come in…” They mumbled as they buried themselves in another tome.

The door opened and Chrom stepped in to find his tactician surrounded by books on their desk, both read and unread. “Robin, I came to tell you-... How many books have you been reading?!”

Robin sighed and closed the tome they’d been pouring over, using a feather as a bookmark and turning to face their commander and friend. “Oh, a couple dozen or so.” Their face lit up with energy. “There’s just so much I want to know!” They turned back to their desk and started pulling books down from the read pile. “‘An Ylissean Case Study in Property Law’, ‘Grima and Naga: Siblings or Adversaries?’, ‘Ribald Tales of the Faith War’(wait that one’s more of a mythological novel). I haven’t even scratched the surface!” They beamed.

Chrom cringed, “And how much have you slept?”

“Enough.” Robin answered succinctly, reopening their tome from before.

“Well, rested or not, Frederick’s coronation will be underway in only a few hours. Everyone’s going to be there, in full armor, so make sure you’re ready, too.”

“Everyone? In their armor? That doesn’t sound very comfortable.”

“It’s not for the sake of comfort, Robin.” Chrom answered firmly. “We need to be prepared for a fight in case any of our enemies attempt to crash the ceremony.”

“Oh, I suppose I hadn’t thought of that. Well, this is a big event, so I suppose it would draw unwanted attention.”

Chrom crossed his arms. “It’s not about the crowd being drawn, Robin. Assassins have made attempts on Frederick’s and our lives for as long as I can remember.” Robin shot him a look of shock, to which he nodded. “It’s happened often enough that Emmeryn, as much a pacifist as she is, has taken up arms before. Once, Frederick was nearly lost to us when an enemy’s knife found its way into his back. He would have died if Emmeryn hadn’t fought off his attacker.”

Robin’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “That would explain why they’re so worried for each other’s safety…”

Chrom sighed, “Yes, and that was the first time Emmeryn had taken a life. She was distraught for days. Frederick and Phila both insisted she have a guard by her side at all times since, so that it won’t happen again. Phila herself has been that guard for 10 years now.”

“Lady Emmeryn… I can’t imagine how she feels about all this.” Robin mused.

Chrom smiled, “Well, my sister is strong. She’s more determined than anyone to keep the peace and protect the lives of our people, even if she must take up arms to do so, loathe as she is to do it. We’re lucky to have her.”

Robin laughed, “You said that before, you know.”

“Well it’s true. Come on, we should meet with the others.” Chrom waved Robin over and they followed him out to gather the Shepherds for the coronation.

~~~

Ylisseans from all across the realm gathered outside the gates of Ylisstol castle. They waited with bated breath to catch the first glimpse of their crown prince emerge as King of Ylisse. Inside, a humble ceremony was taking place. Frederick stood, kneeling forward with his back to the throne as Hierarch Lowell performed the rites of coronation. Standing alongside their prince and commander in chief were the Shepherds, each fully adorned in their armor and weaponry, some watching the rites being given, others watching the crowd of standing nobility, and others still watching the shadows, ever wary of an assassin’s attempt to strike.

Robin was amongst the latter, paying little heed to the ceremonial words as they performed sweeps of the corners of the room, mentally calculating the most advantageous position from which to attempt an assassination so as to foil it. They did manage to catch the final vows, however.

  
The Hierarch spoke clearly and enunciated perfectly, “Will you, Frederick of Ylisse, promise and swear to perform those acts deemed necessary for the good of the people of our fair realm, in the eyes of Naga?”

“I swear it.” Frederick’s voice was even and calm, even quiet, but everyone in the room heard him as if he’d shouted the words. Stretched across his open palms lay a lance that was both ornate yet also plain. The blade of its tip was not straight, yet looked as if it could pierce the thickest of steel. Its crossguard was stretched out from the base of the blade and fanned backwards, shaped into three curling winds on either side. Its shaft was sturdily attached to the blade and socket of the guard, yet aside from a ribbon that wrapped loosely around its length, was uncarved.

“Will you raise this ancient regalia, this lance that your ancestors bore before you, Gradivus, in defense of the people, in preservation of peace?”

“I will.” Frederick’s fingers curled around the lance, as if to affirm the vow he swore to it.

“And will you bear the mantle passed to your ancestor by the first exalt, to be a king to your people, to carry their burdens as your own, and to do that which will not be desired, but which must be done?”

“It is my honor and my duty.”

“Then, O Great Naga, by your power it is that I lay this crown upon the head of King Frederick.” With that, the Hierarch placed upon Frederick’s head a rather simple gold tiara, resting upon his brow and coming down behind his ears. As the Hierarch stepped back, Frederick raised Gradivus to his side and stood, tall and proud, saying nothing. The Shepherds all stood at attention as Frederick began the march to the castle courtyard to greet his subjects.

As the shadows began to stir, Robin made little show of distress as they came up close behind Chrom, who followed just behind Frederick. “Milord Frederick, Chrom, there’s someone hiding in the halls.”

Chrom’s eyes went wide as he shot a glance towards the doors as the guards opened them for their new king. “Gods, no…!”

Just as the crowds gasped in delight as the doors revealed their king, cloaked individuals emerged from their hiding places, in the corners of the grand hall and all throughout the courtyard.

“They’re everywhere! Shepherds, to arms! We defend our king and our people!” Chrom shouted his orders behind him as his men quickly readied themselves.

Robin turned to Frederick just as he slammed Gradivus into the floor and shouted, “Close the gates! We must protect the citizens at all costs!”

Robin scanned the enemy taking the field rapidly. The courtyard was not small, it would take a mounted unit too long to reach the gates and hold them before the assassins could get their chance to start cutting their way through. Dammit, if only they’d predicted a courtyard assault, they’d have stationed a Shepherd at the gate already! The castle guard wouldn’t be an equal match to assailants of this caliber. This was not good…

While the Shepherds followed their orders to spread out, forming a thick defensive fan around the doors of the castle whilst also extending towards the courtyard gates as far as they could reasonably manage, Robin watched as a familiar blue head emerged from the crowd of commoners, raising an even more familiar sword to cut down the first of the incoming attackers. “There’s no way…” Chrom muttered in confusion. He turned back to his tactician. “Robin! I’m joining Marth by the gates, cover me!”

Robin shot him a glare for breaking formation but nodded, firing off an Elfire at an enemy that tried to get to Chrom as he ran.

Marth was surrounded on all sides with his back to the gates as he fought off the assailants trying to cut down the Ylisseans behind him. Chrom cried out as he brought Falchion around and slashed across the back of the closest assassin. As he pushed forward and put his back to Marth’s, he couldn’t help but notice the arc of his sword swings, the power behind his strikes. “Who taught you how to fight like that?” Chrom managed to get out in between parried blows.

He managed to catch a glimpse in his peripheral of Marth pulling back and jumping to overpower his opponent’s defense. “My father!” He cried as he forced back another assailant.

~~~

As Chrom and Marth fought back to back, Frederick was juggling his priorities and his weapon choices. With his coronation, he’d officially promoted and now was suited to wield axes and swords in addition to his usual lances into combat. He swiftly adjusted from one to the next to outmatch the next opponent he came across, but therein lay the issue; with Robin’s direction in mind, Frederick was caught between holding the line and charging his attackers. After the ceremony, the nobles had gone to their rooms, and would be protected by the spiraling halls and reinforced doors, but Emmeryn and Phila were still in the throne room, and the newly anointed king had to restrain himself from dashing off to their aid. He did a sweep of the hall and saw the others handling the assassins inside with ease and saw his window.

As Stahl picked off the lancer he’d introduced to his axe, Frederick turned back to the Shepherds with him inside the castle. “I need you all to cover my back, I’m going to make sure Lady Emmeryn is secure.” He turned and began making his way back to the throne, confident that the Shepherds would heed his command as they would Chrom’s or Robin’s. As he ran through the hall, he passed by the few assassins that had hidden in the castle scattered across the floor. Picking up the pace, he arrived in the throne room to see Phila handily fending off a swordsman while Emmeryn kept behind her. Frederick’s eyes went wide as an axeman crept up behind Phila, his eyes focused on Emmeryn. Frederick raised his voice as loud as he could, shouting, “BEHIND YOU!”

Phila turned just in time to see the axeman raising his wicked blade, Emmeryn clutching her tome to her chest, terrified. She threw herself in front of the assassin, catching his blade in her shoulder.

Frederick made a mad dash for the throne as Phila collapsed, but Emmeryn was quicker to act. Just as her would-be murderer looked up from Phila, his eyes met the fire in Emmeryn’s as her tome flew open, the magic sigils forming around her as she fired blades of wind into his body, flaying him alive and sending him flying back.

Frederick propped Phila’s head up on his knee as Emmeryn raised her staff, mending the deep wound in her shoulder. The pegasus knight coughed, looking up at her charge and friend, “Your Grace… I told you…” Her eyes fell closed as consciousness left her.

Emmeryn’s brow knit close together as she raised her staff again, sweat beginning to drip down her face as the magic flowed into her retainer. Her lips pursed before she spoke, saying, “Frederick, this isn’t enough. He… he shattered her collarbone.” When she lifted her head to meet his gaze, tears were flowing down her smooth features. “We have to get her to the medical ward.”

Frederick nodded, lifting Phila’s unconscious body up gently, supporting her head as he turned to the west hall of the castle, kicking up dust as he rushed her to the castle doctors that could save her life.

~~~

When Stahl relayed to Robin that Frederick retreated to check on Emmeryn, they had to rearrange the battle plan they’d formed in their head. Donnel and Kellam were supporting Chrom and Marth at the gate while Sully, Virion, Vaike, and Sumia were clearing out the courtyard. Robin had seen that the enemy reinforcements had slowed enough that they could make a push to defeat their commander, a cavalier Robin had spotted far back in the brush of the east half of the courtyard, but Frederick’s absence would require a more surgical approach. “Sully, with me! Stahl, provide covering fire. Donnel, keep Stahl alive! Sumia, take Donnel’s place at the gate!” As the fiery swordswoman came to their side, Robin pressed close to the castle wall and led her forward, evading some of the enemy. A mercenary was about to alert the others of their approach when a well-placed arrow cut him off in time for Sully to cut him down, and in moments they were in range of the assassin leader.

  
The woman, bronze-skinned and with dark hair that flowed out from under her helmet scowled at them. “In Grima’s name, for its crimes against Plegia, Ylisse shall fall!” She reared her horse back and charged, bringing her steel sword out and attempting to run Robin through. The tactician deflected the steel with their iron sword, redirecting and keeping her attention away as Sully flanked her and sliced into her and her horse’s sides. Robin jumped back as the rider swung around, slashing at Sully in a counterattack. Sully locked their blades together, giving Robin time to pull out their Elfire tome and hurl the fireball at the cavalier’s exposed back. Crying out in pain, she switched sides again, striking wildly at Robin, who ducked and weaved out of her grasp. Sully pulled back and leapt at her, driving her sword into her side and knocking her off her horse, pulling her last breath out from her lungs. “You’ll… pay for this… Gehagh!” She gasped, blood flying out of her mouth as she coughed up her last breath of life.

Robin turned back to the courtyard to see the Shepherds clearing out the last of the assassins. They came over to Chrom and Marth, happy to see that none of the civilians had been attacked.

“I don’t think we can thank you enough for what you’ve done today, Marth,” Chrom said, drawing the other Shepherds’ attention to the gates.

“If I hadn’t been here, many people would have been killed.” The masked individual turned to shoot a glance in Robin’s direction. “If a slip up like this happens again, you might not be so lucky.” With that, Marth slipped back into the crowd, some of whom tried to thank the stranger themselves while others were trying to get Chrom’s attention, preventing him from following.

  
“Gods, does he always have to run away so quickly…?” He lamented, unable to get through the throngs of citizens thanking him for protecting them.

“...” Robin contemplated what Marth had said to them. The first time they’d met, he(?) had left with an ominous warning of dangers to come, and then an attack occurred during the coronation. Now he’s left a warning that something like this might happen again…? “We should be glad he was here in the first place, no matter how long he stayed.”

“Right…” Chrom frowned before he addressed the crowd, calming them down with a few words.

Robin turned back to the Shepherds and started assessing their conditions when Frederick returned, to the delight of the people.

“Citizens of Ylisse, hear me,” Frederick said with a clear voice. “Let it be known that on this day, our enemies sought to strike fear into our hearts and spill our blood onto our soil.” A hush came over the crowd. “And see that on this day,” his voice rose in a crescendo. “We! Said! No!” The crowd burst into cheers and applause as he continued, “Let our enemies break themselves against us! For we shall not break first!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the hardest chapter to write thus far. Didn't help that it's the first one that doesn't have an in-game analogue. Oh and then the hurricane happened, that slowed things down some more. And then the High Holidays rolled around...
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all like the chapter! Please leave a comment with what Supports you'd like to see! It'll really help put the story together and I'd really like to have my readers' input on what pairings grow out of Heavy Is The Head.


	6. Helpless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5: The Exalt and the King  
> War rears its ugly head. How does Ylisse respond?

Robin had only just begun counting heads of the Shepherds after the battle when Frederick pulled them aside, looking gravely serious. “Robin, the others tell me it was you and Sully who engaged the enemy commander?”

Robin nodded. “I did, sir.”

“You will need to accompany Chrom and I at the next council meeting, to be held in an hour or so.” Frederick turned to face the setting sun, a harshness to his features that Robin had yet to see before now.

“Did something happen? Is Emmeryn alright?” They asked, terrified that Frederick had perhaps been too late to help.

He nodded, setting their mind at ease. “Emmeryn is well, but Phila was grievously wounded.”

Robin winced. “Will she be okay? She’s Emmeryn’s personal retainer, right?”

“She will need time to recover. Emmeryn is with her right now in the medical ward,” Frederick said with a steady voice.

“I suppose she won’t be attending the meeting, then. Emmeryn, I mean.”

“I am not so foolish as to ask her to come,” Frederick said with a small laugh. “I’d have better luck convincing Vaike to wear a shirt.”

Robin laughed, happy to see the tension slip off Frederick’s shoulders. “I’ll be prepared to give my full report to the council, Frederick.”

“As you would.” The prince gave a curt nod before turning away.

Robin’s face fell as they considered the pain Lady Emmeryn must feel for her injured companion.

~~~

“Naga, forgive me my cowardice,” Emmeryn prayed softly at Phila’s bedside. The Pegasus Knight Captain had fallen back asleep not long after returning to consciousness as the medical staff’s magic accelerated her natural healing.

Of course, that didn't stop Emmeryn from throwing in a few extra doses of Mending in herself. Anything to ease the pain Phila suffered for her sake.

“Why must I always be so helpless?” Emmeryn pleaded quietly, her hands clenched into fists upon her knees as she sat, shaking. “Must others always come to my rescue? Am I really so weak that I can’t defend myself?!” A sob threatened to force its way out of her throat as she choked it back down.

“You’re not… weak,” a faint whisper escaped Phila’s lips as her eyes cracked slightly, giving her a chance to look her liege lady in the eyes. “You’re the strongest person… I know.”

Emmeryn shut her eyes tight to hold back her tears. “But,” she swallowed another sob before continuing, “I couldn’t even fight back, until you were already… already…!”

Phila coughed up a short laugh, “Hmhm, Emm… that’s exactly what makes you strong.” She shut her eyes and rolled her head back to face up at the ceiling. “You have… so much love in your heart. You can’t bear… to hurt anyone in self-defense, because… you empathize with them. You feel their pain as your own. Until they hurt someone else… You would never hurt a fly.”

Emmeryn took a deep breath to steady herself. “How can you say that, Phila? How can you say that as you lay here, wounded on my account?”

Her friend and knight chuckled. “Because that’s what I’m here for. To protect you, Lady Emmeryn.”

Emmeryn felt her nails digging deeper into her palms as she struggled to hold herself together. “I don’t _want_ you to get hurt protecting me! I don’t want anyone hurt for my sake!”

“Life won’t… give you what you want,” Phila said softly, slipping slowly back into unconsciousness. “Sometimes… you have… to reach out… and…” She trailed off wordlessly, her breathing deepening as she fell asleep.

“...” Emmeryn sat, trying to will the tension and tears away as she watched over her most trusted friend.

~~~

Robin couldn’t help but feel they weren’t exactly ‘welcome’ at the Ylissean Council. As soon as they’d stepped in behind Chrom, all eyes were on them. Their research into Ylissean politics had informed them that the Council was a very exclusive gathering of only the most influential nobles in the halidom, and that in recent history, the Council consisted of four Lords charged with governing and representing the four corners of the land, the Hierarch representing the capital of Ylisstol, and the crown and exalted at the head of the table. Chrom had mentioned being ‘roped into’ attending the recent council meetings as the Captain of the Shepherds, and looked about as enthusiastic about it as he was about wearing two-sleeved shirts. Frederick seemed right in his element, his stern countenance and commanding presence captivating the room.

And Robin couldn’t help but feel horribly out of place as they took their seat beside Chrom, five sets of eyes digging into them with undisguised mistrust.

“King Frederick, are we really expected to take this Grimleal foreigner at their word regarding this day’s attack?!” One of the lords snarled, all but baring his teeth at them.

Before Chrom could even speak a word, the newly-crowned monarch put his foot down. “Lord Jackson, you--and every member of the council,” he shot each of the councilmembers a terrifying glare, “--shall _hold their tongue_ regarding the Shepherds’ _most trusted_ tactician. Any doubts you have about them, you can address to me.”

Robin watched as every man at the table sat a little straighter, biting their tongues as they faced Frederick. His nod to the tactician was their cue to begin. “Well, to start, this attack was carefully planned,” Robin began, replaying the events following the coronation in their mind. “The assassins were carefully planted both within the castle and gardens. They must have found some means of entering the castle unnoticed-”

“Impossible!” A shrill, bespectacled man with thinning hair interrupted, saying, “Castle Ylisstol is very well-secured. All entrances were under constant watch, no one could have gotten in unnoticed… unless,” the lord glared at Robin with his beady eyes. “Someone _let_ them in.”

“Watch yourself, Heinrich,” Chrom exclaimed. “I’ll have you know that Robin was with me for the entire day leading up to the coronation, and every Shepherd can tell you they haven’t left the Garrison without an escort.”

“Oh? And do tell, what need have they for an escort, hmmm?!”

Robin made no attempt to hide their distaste. “I’d get _lost_ otherwise,” they hissed. “Ylisstol and the castle both are massive! I’d never find my way back if someone didn’t show me around.”

Frederick cleared his throat loudly to silence Lord Heinrich. “Please, continue, Robin.”

“Whatever their means of gaining entry, they were highly trained in both stealth and combat. I had only barely managed to spot them as we marched out to the courtyard before the attack began. Which!” They stopped, before any of the lords could misinterpret them. “I immediately informed Chrom and Frederick of, just as the castle doors were opened.”

Chrom nodded in confirmation. “And had it not been for Marth’s intervention, innocent lives would have been lost,” he admitted sadly.

“As to the matter of this ‘Marth’ character,” a lord with a large forehead--Jackson, Frederick had said--spoke. “How are we supposed to feel confident in the security of our halidom, that we rely on masked strangers and Plegians to protect our people?”

“Lord Jackson, though Marth has his secrets, he has proven his good will twice now; first in the forest west of Ylisstol, and now, fending off those blackguards,” Frederick answered. “And you are to feel confident in Robin’s abilities because they are a tactician of far greater ability than you.”

The man scoffed, “I shall believe _that_ when this ‘Robin’ can hold back a Plegian Wyvern Assault Squad, or Feroxi Siege Platoon.”

Feeling petty, Robin responded, “I’d read about that last one. ‘The Siege of Edburg’, correct? You served as Brigadier General during the attack, if I remember correctly.” Robin cocked their head. “How many of your men were lost in that battle, again?”

Before Lord Jackson could retort, Frederick spoke, “Robin, we would hear what the commander of the enemy forces said when you engaged them.”

“She said, ‘In Grima’s name, for its crimes against Plegia, Ylisse shall fall!’ It sounded very much like-”

“That proves it!” A plain looking lord with thin lips interjected. “Plegia and its demon worshipers were behind it all!”

“Lord Robert, let’s not make the same mistake as my father. The Grimleal are simply of a different faith,” Chrom explained. “The Fell Dragon is Naga’s brother and equal, not a demon.”

“That aside,” Frederick begins. “He has a point. As bold a statement as it was, it was equally clear; a declaration of war.”

“...” Robin bit their lip. Even Frederick was beginning to fall in with the idea of war. But something didn’t seem right…

Chrom seemed to agree. “Are you seriously suggesting we undo all the work that’s been done for the past 15 years? Our people would riot if we began conscripting again, let alone to fight the same war our fathers started!” His blue hair contrasted greatly with the redness of his face.

“Lord Chrom, you would suggest we do nothing in defense of our people?!” Lord Jackson retorted, just as angry as his opponent.

“NO!” Chrom shouted, covering his eyes with one hand as he held up the other. “I’m just saying… we act… smart.”

Frederick nodded. “Chrom is right; now is not the time for decisions made in haste. We must think carefully on our next course of action.” He turned to his Plegian ally and tactician. “Robin, what say you on the matter?”

“I…” Robin paused, closing their eyes and focusing on their most important mission: to serve Ylisse and its people. That was the only life they knew. “I think we should play this defensively; fortify our guard and maintain careful watch on our borders. We will _not_ make the first strike-”

“Bah!” Lord Jackson scoffed, “Of course the Plegian would have us retreat into our shells! We must take the initiative and hit them hard now before they can rally against us.”

“Aggression will be exactly the cue they need to begin rallying in the first place,” Robin answered. “We can’t even say for sure that it’s Plegia that wants this war.”

The room went silent as everyone else in the room stopped in confusion. Frederick spoke first, saying, “And what brings you to that conclusion?”

Robin drummed their fingers on the table as they went over the evidence in their head, “Well, this attack was highly coordinated and carefully planned. The enemy knew exactly what they were doing. When the commander said aloud that the attack was in Plegia’s name, wouldn’t that mean that Queen Aversa is ready for war already? If so, why would she give us advance warning, and allow us to make the first move?” The other councilmen murmured amongst themselves, mulling over their deduction. “If Aversa truly is the power behind this attack, she’ll act quickly. So we have to prepare even faster than her. And if she isn’t,” they said, looking around the room, “then we know that someone else wants us to think that she is.”

~~~

The following week was so incredibly tense that even the rowdiest of Shepherds had trouble causing their usual mayhem as war brewed on the horizon. Robin wasn’t sure what to feel as they organized guard patrols, oversaw spy network reports, and trained with the Shepherds. On the one hand, it felt good to get involved with Ylisse’s inner workings; to understand how to help the halidom that gave them purpose. It’s what they were good at. But on the other hand, it felt like all they were doing was waiting. Waiting for the copper to drop, waiting for news of bloodshed, waiting for war, waiting for _something_.

Emmeryn had needed time to come out of Phila’s room. The first couple of days into the pegasus knight’s recovery, Emmeryn could barely be moved from her side. Lissa had been spending a lot of her spare time trying to cheer her up, with some success. At least now Emmeryn seemed not so downcast as she talked with her siblings in the main hall of the castle. Robin and Frederick had been reviewing rationing policies to account for an impending war before meeting with the exalted siblings.

“I know how you must feel about this, Emm, but we’re just doing what’s necessary to protect the people,” Chrom said, trying to put his sister at ease.

“I understand, Chrom,” she replied with a nod. “I can only hope that our preparations need not be necessary at all.” She sighed, looking back to the medical ward. She had a pensive look about her, with all the complications and risks of war clearly weighing heavily on her mind.

“That is what we all hope for, Lady Emmeryn.” Frederick bowed his head in greeting. “No one in Ylisse wishes for more war-”

“Milord! Milady! Dire news from the border!” A pegasus knight came rushing into the room, sweating and exhausted.

Emmeryn was first to respond. “Speak quickly, please. What happened?” She asked with a pleading tone.

“Plegian soldiers have been sighted inside our southwest border! Report says they attacked a village in Themis and abducted the former Duke's daughter.”

Lissa’s eyes widened in fear. “B-but… the former duke, so you mean… they’ve got Maribelle!” She turned to her brother, tears welling up. “Chrom, we have to do something!”

The messenger continued, “Queen Aversa of Plegia claims it was Ylissean troops who invaded her lands. She demands we answer for this supposed aggression.”

Chrom looked ready to explode. “So, that’s it, then; the Witch Queen of Plegia is poised to strike,” he said in a quiet rage.

“Peace, Chrom,” Emmeryn said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “We must keep our wits about us.”

Chrom shrugged her off. “This is what we’ve been waiting for, Emm! She sent her men after us at the coronation and now she’s lying through her teeth to bring us to blows. We can’t just sit back and take this!”

Frederick nodded solemnly. “It’s the sad truth of the situation that we must be prepared for the worst, milady.”

“I _know_ that, you two!” Emmeryn cried, startling the room. She took a deep breath before continuing, “I know. But if we give in to war then everyone loses! The previous conflict nearly destroyed us. It burned down our homes, devoured our crops, and broke apart our families. If we repeat the mistakes of our fathers then it’ll all happen again. King Frederick,” she said, looking him in the eyes.

“Yes, milady?”

“We must offer parley with Queen Aversa.” Her voice was steady with resolve.

Lissa’s voice, however, was shaking with terror, “Emm, no! I know what you’re thinking, and you can’t go and try talking us out of this; she’ll have you killed!”

“Lady Emmeryn, negotiations at this stage could leave us vulnerable to a surprise attack,” Frederick mused. “Are you sure this is wise?”

Emmeryn straightened her shoulders before speaking, “If it is that, or leave Maribelle a helpless prisoner, then yes. It is the wisest thing we could or will ever do.”

The messenger spoke again, saying, “Lady Emmeryn, know that the pegasus knights ride at your back.”

Chrom huffed, “I’m going, too. Someone has to save you from your good intentions.”

“And I want to be there for you AND Maribelle!” Lissa chimed in.

Frederick nodded, “I believe it is wise to have the whole of the Shepherds present for negotiations. The guard shall keep the castle safe, and you shall have Ylisse’s best and brightest at your side.”

~~~

The rest of that day was spent preparing the troops for march towards the border. News had spread fast throughout the castle that Plegia had finally made its move, and the air was difficult to read. Some of the lords seemed anxious to see how things would play out, while others looked ready to face the horrors of war once more in their lifetime. Lord Jackson drummed his fingers upon his leg as he watched his king speak with the Shepherds, briefing them on their mission. He scoffed as he heard Chrom directing the Shepherds to watch and wait like sheep for the Plegian hounds to make the first move. This war was inevitable, as sure as it was the day Lady Emmeryn and Lord Frederick ended it.

“Lord Jackson, you look a fright tense,” Lord Heinrich said, sitting across from him at the table in the courtyard. “Perhaps you are… anticipating the results of this ‘parley’ of theirs?” The mousy-looking man cocked an eyebrow at him, barely containing a snide grin.

Jackson gave a short chuckle, “Yes, well, one can only be expected to do so, watching children play at war.” He brought his hand up to his chin. “They pray for a peace they’ve not the strength to achieve, I’m afraid.”

Heinrich laughed at that, his wheezing, piercing giggles irritating Jackson’s ears, “And you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, old friend? Your might won much glory in Ylisse’s name during the Crusades. If anyone can achieve peace, it will be by the strength of your sword arm.”

“It certainly won’t be by the wit of that daft desert-dweller,” Jackson said with a drawl.

“That Plegian androgyne is quite the curious case,” Heinrich mused. “They say he or she lost their memory, and simply joined the Shepherds for lack of anywhere else to go.”

“Perhaps that would explain why they cling to the coattails of Chrom and King Frederick like a duckling. At first I’d thought them just a parasitic sycophant, but after that display at the council I suppose he or she didn’t lose their backbone with their memory. If they weren’t sabotaging the war effort I’d commend them for their moxie.”

“And that is what you believe their true intentions are? Sabotage?”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “What else could it possibly be, Heinrich? They want to prolong a ceasefire as long as possible to give their countrymen the best advantage against us. I’m no fool.”

Heinrich laughed, “None would take you for a fool, my friend, lest they find themselves a fool.”

Jackson turned back to watch the Shepherds once more, curious to see young Ricken walking away looking despondent and indignant.

“Ho! Sir Ricken,” he called to the young mage. “What has you so down, lad?”

The pint-sized mage in the too-large hat looked up in surprise, trotting over dutifully. “Lord Jackson, good to see you.” He bowed with respect, earning a smile. “I don’t think it’s something you should be concerned with…”

“Nonsense, my boy,” Jackson said with a laugh. “You’re the prodigal son of one of the most influential houses in the lands under my domain. Your worries are as mine.”

“It’s just… Chrom thinks I’m too young to go with the Shepherds!” Ricken stomped his foot angrily, like the child he was.

“Too young?” Jackson cocked an eyebrow. “In my day, if you were old enough to stand on your own two feet you were old enough to fight for your king and country.”

“I know, right?!” Ricken beamed. “He just won’t give me the chance to prove myself. I know I can make him and King Frederick proud.”

Jackson smiled as a thought came to him. “You know, Ricken, I think I may know just how you can do it…”

~~~

The march to the border took Robin and the Shepherds through the grassy plains of Ylisse into the border mountains approaching the deserts of Plegia. As the troops stopped to catch their breath, exhausted from traversing the rocky terrain, Robin couldn’t help but feel comfortable amid the crag and stone. Their mind wandered as they calculated the innumerable defensive positions, ambush points, and then some, while their heart settled easily in their chest.

“What in the damn hell?!” Robin jumped in surprise, turning to see Sully behind them, winded and looking at them in shock. “Everyone not on a horse… is just about dyin’ up here. But you… you’ve barely broken a sweat?”

“I… suppose I’m just used to it?” Robin replied with a shrug. “Something about the air feels familiar… I suppose before I lost my memory, I must have lived somewhere in the mountains.”

“Gah,” the myrmidon scoffed. “Damn city’s making me soft. If a scrawny runt like you can make it up here, so can I.”

“I take offense to that!” Robin replied. “I’m not that scrawny, or short!” They put their hands on their hips, straightening their back to affirm the point (which would have worked better if they didn’t still have to look up to meet Sully’s eyes).

Sully responded with a laugh before ruffling Robin’s hair, which had them flailing their arms trying to shoo her away.

Chrom interrupted their little spat as he called out to the soldiers, “Everyone! We’re approaching the Border Pass now. Be on your guard; Plegia’s own force is waiting for us there.”

~~~ 

Tension filled the air as King Frederick, Lady Emmeryn and her siblings, the Shepherds, and the Ylissean Pegasus Knights arrived at the bottom of the Border Pass between Ylisse and Plegia. The cliffside was craggy and difficult to navigate, but paths had been carved through to allow limited passage through. The border guards were generally vigilant on both sides, aware of the dangerous edge on which they walked, geographically and politically.

Queen Aversa stood alone atop a rock formation on the Plegian side of the pass, her crown a sparkling gold atop her white hair. To call her garments ‘sheer’ would be an understatement; the neck of her gown cut all the way down to her navel, forming an eye catching pattern across her stomach. Her collar was adorned with white and gold feathers, with accents of the same colors trailing down her outfit, which was primarily black. The lack of significant legwear might have been seen as provocative, but her leggings and boots provided enough coverage, even if she was underdressed even for a rider.

“So, the new King of Ylisse has deigned to grace me with his presence,” her voice flowed like liquid poison into the ears of the Ylisseans across the path. “Should I be honored?”

Emmeryn stepped forward, saying, “Queen Aversa, we’ve come for the truth of this unfortunate incident between us.”

“Ah, and you must be her most exalted Lady Emmeryn. I can give you the truth, if that is what you desire.”

“It is, milady. Is Maribelle unharmed?”

Rather than respond with her words, Aversa simply snapped her fingers, signaling a Plegian soldier with an axe to move forward, Maribelle held tight in his grasp with chains. It was difficult to make out what she was saying to her jailer, but it almost certainly wasn’t pleasant.

“Maribelle!” Lissa called out in distress, terrified to see her best friend in irons.

“Lissa?” She replied, shouting as loud as she could to be heard from so far away. “Darling, is that you?”

Aversa ignored their distant reunion and continued, “This girl crossed the Plegian border without our consent under already tempestuous circumstances. And what’s more… She attacked the Plegian soldiers on sight who sought only to ask why she had come.”

“LIES!” Maribelle cried out. “You wretched hag! Do you know nothing of the crimes of your own soldiers?!”

After a moment, Aversa shrugged her shoulders, saying, “You see? No manners at all. Nasty little bird that she is, we had no choice but to cage her lest she peck an eye out.”

Frederick stepped forward. “Queen Aversa, it would behoove you to tell the entirety of your side of this story. We shall decide here and now whether your testimony and Maribelle’s are in contradiction with each other.”

Aversa twirled her fingers amusedly. “You would allow me the first word? So gracious…” She continued, speaking clearly, “My border guard were investigating a disturbance reported three nights ago. Within the forests at the base of the mountains they found little miss priss here on our side, armed and eager to fight. When they attempted to reason with her, she attacked. After subduing her, they brought her to the nearest base and sent word both to your border guards and our capital. There, you have the truth of it.”

Maribelle gasped in defiance, “I have done nothing wrong! It is they who should confess! Plegian soldiers invaded Ylisse and razed an entire village! When I attempted to follow them, their border guards cornered me, I had no choice but to fight back! Then they dragged me across the border.” She lifted her head confidently. “Let the plundered shops and charred homes of that village serve as my proof!”

Aversa cocked her head. “An interesting story. Pray wonder I’d not received word from Ylisse of such an attack.”

Frederick cleared his throat. “Word first arrived of Maribelle’s capture. We’d only heard of the village’s destruction en route to this parley.”

Aversa rolled her tongue before continuing, “Regardless, one destroyed village serves as proof only for the case of Ylisse’s bandit problem--something our lands have in common. Know that I offer my condolences for your departed,” she drawled, making it impossible to tell if she was being genuine.

“Milord, milady, please!” Maribelle cried out, on the verge of tears of anger, grief, and frustration.

Emmeryn raised a hand to the distraught girl. “Peace, Maribelle. I believe you.” She turned back to the Witch Queen. “Queen Aversa, I request that you release this woman at once. Surely we can sort out these affairs without the need of hostages.”

Aversa seemed to consider it a moment. “...Perhaps, but I’ve something better in mind, Your Grace.” She held out a hand in offering. “Perhaps we can arrange a trade? You give me the Fire Emblem, and your little bird is returned to you unharmed.”

Emmeryn’s eyes went wide with shock and confusion. “You would ask for Ylisse’s royal treasure? But why?”

Aversa giggled to herself. “You think it safe hidden under your robes, Lady Emmeryn-” A shock went through the Ylisseans present who understood the implications of her words, “-but Ylisse is not without its own demons. With it safe in Plegia, its power need not fall into the wrong hands.”

“The Emblem’s power is meant for a single purpose, Queen Aversa: to save the world and its people at their hour of most desperate need. Would you claim that power could be used for ill?” Emmeryn asked.

“Hmhmhm, it would seem I know something you do not, milady. But that aside, you must see the truth of my words. Ylisse is not filled with saints alone. Your father named us heathens, and his 'crusade' across Plegia butchered countless of my people and my kin.” Aversa’s voice dropped harshly, her tongue flicking with acid words.

Emmeryn took a deep breath and sighed. “...I have never denied Ylisse’s past wrongdoings. But milord and I have sworn to never repeat those mistakes. Ours is now a realm of peace.”

“Yours is now a den of lies,” Aversa hissed. “Would you care to know _why_ my men were investigating the border? Or perhaps why news of your own destroyed village was delayed? I’m sure you’d be just delighted to hear it...”

Emmeryn looked to Frederick in confusion, who simply looked back to the Witch Queen before saying, “Speak, Queen Aversa.”

Aversa loosened her posture as she continued, “My men found one of our own villages burnt to ash along the border. Unlike the case of your little Mary Contrary, there were no survivors. They tracked the offenders to the border, where they found the little firebrand, who responded with the end of her spear.” She rested her cheek in her palm. “I don’t blame her now, of course; my men were of a like mind as her, having witnessed similar tragedy. She claims it was Plegians who destroyed her village, now that I cannot deny, but I believe we’ve a common enemy here.”

Frederick’s face hardened at the implication. “And who would that be?”

“An Ylissean. One who hires sellswords and brigands to harass both our realms in the hopes of pitting us against each other.”

 

Ricken wasn’t sure what to make of all this. Lord Jackson had given him the help he needed to get in range to free Maribelle, but it didn’t look like she was in much trouble. There was a lot of talking though, and it didn’t sound too good.

 

“And what makes you so sure this instigator is Ylissean?” Frederick asked.

Aversa laughed aloud at that, “Milord, your spy networks are almost hilariously substandard. I know everything you think you know, in addition to everything I know that I know. Just as I knew that your beloved Exalt kept the Fire Emblem on her person, or that you recently recruited a noble from Roseanne.” Someone had to pat Virion on the back to stop him from choking on his own tongue. “But I couldn’t exactly open our negotiations with that, now could I?”

“You would withhold information of the halidom’s security for your personal benefit?” Frederick asked swiftly.

“I would withhold information I know you wouldn’t take at its value, milord,” Aversa countered. “What reason would you have to trust the word of your country’s most distrusted enemy? So, as a show of good faith,” Aversa snapped her fingers, and Maribelle’s chains were removed. “I return to you your little lady friend.”

Chrom seemed the most taken aback of anyone. “You… truly mean to let her go free?” He asked, uncertain of the Witch Queen’s good intentions.

“Of course, milord. But, do be careful-” She turned her gaze to the mountains at the Shepherds’ backs. “-I’m afraid we’ve unwelcome company.”

 

Zanth had started his week feeling like the king of the world. His crew’s latest job was easy: burn a couple villages, hide out a couple days, and stab some Ylisseans in the back. The guy footing the bill said it’d be easy pickin’s with the Plegian Army on the other end of the battlefield; the two countries’d be so busy ripping each others’ throats out they wouldn’t notice the vultures circling ahead.

At least, that’s how it was supposed to go down.

Now that he and his boys came out from the mountains, instead of two armies in the middle of a bloodbath, they stumbled into the middle of a ceasefire, and everyone turned to them.

“Oy, be this salt in me eyes…?”

 

“That’s them!” Maribelle cried out. “Those are the scoundrels that destroyed my home!”

As the Shepherds and Plegian army alike prepared to face this new threat, Aversa spoke, “Whoever gets to him first, do try and take their leader alive. I’ve some questions for him.”

Robin quickly ordered a battle formation to guard the rear when Lissa’s whimpering reminded them to get a rescue squad over to Maribelle before the enemy got to her first, but when they looked her direction they found her being helped by the young mage Chrom had shooed away before the mission.

“Ricken?! How did he get here?” Chrom exclaimed as he followed Robin’s eyes.

“Nevermind that, I’m going to flag him over. Shepherds, on your guard! Build a wall and crush them with it!” Robin called out, observing with delight as the warriors began forming solid defensive pairs without need of direction as they began to push back against the marauders.

Once Maribelle had been brought down the pass with Ricken, Robin quickly delegated their new roles, “Ricken, I want you supporting Miriel from the backlines. Blast the enemy from safety while she keeps the Shepherds healthy. Chrom, Maribelle will need your support to get proper battle experience, lead her to the front but keep her away from the dangerous targets.” The petite woman in pink didn’t seem to protest being swept off her feet and placed in Chrom’s care, and Robin nodded as she brandished a well-polished Bronze Lance against the men that had ravaged her home. _I doubt she’s seen a day of combat before,_ they mused as they pulled themselves atop Frederick’s horse.

“Guide my sword, Robin,” Frederick called behind him as they adjusted to a proper seated position.

“We make for their commander, Frederick. And we take him alive,” they said as Frederick took Serenity into a gallop.

“That would mean you’ll have to put your tome down.”

Robin could practically _hear_ the smirk in his voice. “Well I _just so happened_ to have practiced with my sword recently.”

“Good,” Frederick said as Robin narrowed their eyes at the axeman in charge of the brigands. “You’ll need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet! Starting sometime after next chapter I'll begin establishing solid supports. Look forward to Maribelle, Donnel, Chrom, and Lissa supports first and foremost, with maybe a dash of Miriel.
> 
> Also: Please! Leave a comment! Tell me what you like, what you don't, what supports you want to see! I'd love any and all feedback!


	7. Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finishing Chapter 5: The Exalt and the King! Everything is turning up flowers for the Shepherds. Y'know, except for the whole 'Someone's trying to turn Ylisse and Plegia against each other' thing.

Queen Aversa watched with no small amount of amusement as the Ylissean’s tactician directed their precious Shepherds to overrun the battlefield. It had made sense to bring over the blonde girl and her little escort to their main force, but after pairing off their soldiers in some kind of buddy system, the tactician seemed, almost in contradiction of themselves, to spread their troop out as much as possible.

“Just what are you planning, little bird…?”

 

“Robin, what’s the plan?” Chrom called out as he pulled Maribelle along close enough to their Plegian comrade.

Robin’s eyes darted erratically in between the brigands, the Plegian forces, and the Shepherds. “Chrom, I want you to take Maribelle over to Virion and Lissa. I want her to clean up anyone they don’t take down. Kellam should keep you all in good shape.”

Chrom couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Your initial orders were to ‘build a wall’. Why the change?”

“The Plegian soldiers,” Robin said succinctly, as if that answered the question in its entirety.

“The Plegian soldiers…?”

Robin focused their attention on Aversa, overseeing the battle from her perch. “I want to reduce as much risk to their numbers as possible. The Shepherds have kept in their most defensive positions; the enemy will target them if they appear to be fighting alone together and avoid the Plegian squads Aversa put together.”

Chrom scowled. “And  _ why _ would you risk the lives of our comrades over the lives of the enemy?!”

“Because they’re  _ not _ our enemy, Chrom!” He winced as he realized his slip of the tongue. Robin continued, “The mercenaries are. And if we want to prove to the Queen that our intentions are good, we have to show it with more than just words. If even one Plegian soldier dies today, the blame will fall on us.”

“...” A moment of silence fell in between the bitter lord and the anxious tactician. Robin was just so concerned with so many more factors than towards whom their sword should be pointed. He felt foolish for not thinking about how their neighbors would see Ylisse through this battle.

Frederick spoke up, saying, “You have your orders, Chrom.”

“Right…” Chrom replied, turning back to the battlefield. Sully and Donnel were pulling the enemy away from Miriel and Ricken, and Sumia was fending off incoming assailants attempting to climb the pass while Stahl rained arrows on them from above. Everything seemed to be going well, but…

“Pay attention, milord!” Maribelle’s harsh reprimand snapped him back to reality.

“Er, sorry.” Chrom gave her a look before moving towards his sister. “We’re not done yet. Let’s go.”

~~~

Lissa had a lot on her mind for someone mid-skewer into a mercenary. She was worried about what Queen Aversa had said about her sister and the Fire Emblem. She was wondering what was in Virion’s letters to home, if he was actually foreign nobility. She was hoping to find a nice slimy frog once the battle was done, to slip it into Robin’s coat and watch them make that hilarious face of theirs. But the one thing that was clouding her thoughts more than anything else…

“Lissa!” The pig-tailed pegasus knight turned just in time to see her bestest friend in the whole wide world, safe and sound, charging with her lance forward, impaling the mercenary Lissa had been fighting.

Letting her brother and Virion take point, Lissa dismounted and charged Maribelle with a hug, which was joyously reciprocated. “Maribelle! Are you hurt?!”

Maribelle pulled away with a smug smile. “Darling, I’m happy to say I’ve never been better.” She looked Lissa up and down. “And you? Has all this brawling treated you well?” Her voice wavered with concern.   
Lissa shook her head defiantly. Always with the worrying! “Forget about the battle, you’ve been in chains for days! Who cares about a couple of bruises?”

“I do!” Maribelle pouted.

Lissa laughed it off before looking down at Maribelle’s lance. Her brow furrowed as she spoke, “Isn’t that-”   
“The lance you made for me when you learned how to use the forge, yes,” Maribelle said with a proud smile, admiring her well-polished and freshly-bloodied weapon.

“It’s so shiny! You must have cleaned it every day!”

“Of course I did, darling. Only the best for my greatest treasure from my greatest treasure.”

“Miladies, though I am remiss to interrupt such a happy reunion,” Virion called down from above. “The sweet nothings you wish to whisper must wait. To arms!” The dandy raised his axe high, flying down to meet an incoming fighter.

Lissa pouted, but shrugged, climbing back aboard Isadora. “He’s right, it’s time to clear a path!”

“By your leave, milady,” Maribelle said, following Lissa, marching beside Chrom to push back the enemy.

~~~

“Are you satisfied with your decision to double back and implement this new strategy now, Robin?” Frederick asked with a tone that was either incredibly condescending or completely genuine, and Robin just couldn’t tell with him.

Having scanned the field thrice over, Robin at last felt confident that yes, they were satisfied. The Shepherds were pulling the mercenaries away and dealing with them handily. All that left was…

“We make for their commander.”

Frederick nodded and took Serenity into a gallop towards the edge of the forest, from which the mercenaries had been emerging. Robin thought it was strange that more came to fight after the initial wave fell dead upon the Shepherds’ blades. But judging by the look of their leader, they might not have had any other choice.

 

Zanth could hardly believe his ears. These sellswords he’d been fool enough to call his crew were turning yellow in the face of a true fight. “Yar! If’n ye maggots don’t take up arms, I’ll be cuttin’ them off!” He snarled to the men at the backlines, some of whom were smart enough to get their arses in gear.

One of the lily-livered pansies found the stones to speak up, “B-but sir! We’re outnumbered, and the Ylisseans are-”

“The Ylisseans be not what ye should worry about, maggot!” Zanth pulled the swordsman in close by the collar, twisting the leather of his armor in his grasp. Sneering with gnarled yellow teeth, Zanth screamed, “Fight or die, make yer choice!” In his other hand, the pirate king-to-be twisted his axe to meet the fool’s side.

“M-m-muh…” Only managing to stammer out of fear, Zanth cut the gutless pig in half. The other fighters gawked in disgust.

“Any questions can be answered by my blade!”

 

“Now! Charge!” Robin cried as the enemy commander was distracted, Frederick initiating a bull rush towards Zanth. The brute turned on his heel and roared in defiance, charging forward to meet them. Frederick’s axe met his with a sharp clang as Robin dismounted, jumping behind him and drawing their sword to slash at his back. However, before iron met flesh, the mercenary disengaged from Frederick and swung his weapon over his shoulder, catching their sword in crook of the axe. Frederick switched to his own steel blade and the two Shepherds began to fight fearlessly to break the barbarian’s guard. Zanth held them off far more skillfully than other, less experienced axemen, but for every strike he deflected, another would cut into his form. As Zanth’s chest heaved from the strain, Frederick and Robin performed a final, coordinated attack; Frederick crashed into Zanth with a full force charge, locking his blade under the axehead and rearing Serenity back, forcing the blade out of Zanth’s grip, as Robin rushed him from behind and slashed at his ankles, causing him to collapse onto the ground.

“Rrrrragh! You’ll not… fell a king so easily! Dammit!” Zanth cried from the floor as Robin afixed his wrists with chains Frederick had provided them.

Frederick had just helped them hoist Zanth up onto his useless feet to be brought in when Queen Aversa flew down and landed her pegasus next to them. “That was quite an impressive takedown, your Majesty, Tactician.”

Seeing an opportunity to make a stand against Aversa and assert Ylisse’s place in the conflict, Robin spoke up, saying, “It would have been a simpler task had you seen fit to assist us, your Highness.”

Aversa chuckled softly, “Yes, but what good would it be to ally myself with the Ylissean forces without knowing the depth of their strength? Having seen you in action firsthand, I can say that you have certainly caught my eye…” Aversa trailed off, seeking a name.

“Robin, your Highness.”

“Robin. And what an interesting little bird you are.” Aversa turned to the remaining brigands, speaking, “If you value your lives, sellswords, you will not flee. Your commander is in our custody, and until such time as I have seen fit to release him, your lives are forfeit.” She turned to look cockeyed at the defeated Zanth, continuing, “Seeing as he would have thrown you all to the wolves, consider this a mercy.”

~~~

Robin had directed the Shepherds to corral the surviving mercenaries under watch until Aversa, Frederick, and Chrom finished interrogating their leader. Chrom had protested, but Aversa and Frederick agreed that he should serve as witness to Zanth’s testimony.

“That there was some fine swordsmanship, Robin.” Robin turned to see Donnel walking over, leading his horse by the bridle.

“Thank you, Donnel,” they said as they turned back to continue their watch over the prisoners.

“Say, where’d ya learn to swing a sword like that? It was amazin’ to watch!” The young lord pressed.

“I don’t remember, Donnel,” Robin replied curtly. The amnesiac bit their tongue to prevent snarking him up. They had a job to do, first and foremost.

“So it’s true what they say, you ain’t got no memories!” Donnel exclaims excitedly. “I weren’t sure till now, my pa always told me not to let my eyes go so wide they catch flies. ‘Gullible’, he calls me. You think yo-”

“DONNEL!” Robin snapped, turning to stare him down. “I understand your curiosity, but though the fighting may be over, this is still a battlefield.” The tactician turned back to the mercenaries. “If we let our guard down for even a moment, we risk-” Their eyes went wide as they saw one of the fighters making a mad dash to the forest’s edge. “STOP RIGHT THERE!” They shouted as they dashed after the man, reaching for their tome…

 

Thomas wasn’t a bad man. Money was tight back home, and his arm was strong. So yes, he sold his sword to whatever mercenary band passed through. But food doesn’t come free. Sure, it’s blood money, but Thomas had seen blood be shed for less. He still remembered seeing the Ylissean army marching to and from Plegia during the Crusades, their faces sunken as they passed his little border village. Thomas may have fought for gold, but it was better than fighting for nothing like they had.

And now here he was, in chains and at the mercy of two kingdoms. The first, his own home with its stringent code of laws and justice, the second, a desert kingdom that dealt with traitors like a huntsman killing game. And to hell if he was going to leave his niece and nephew to starve wondering when Uncle Tom was coming home.

So he ran, as fast as he could. If he could just make to those trees, he’d be home fr-

“ELTHUNDER!”

And then everything was red, and pain, then black, and gone.

 

Donnel stared in shock as he watched the bolt of lightning streak forward and hit the runaway dead in the back. He hadn’t even seen Robin pull out their tome.

The Plegian turned to the remaining prisoners. “Let this be a lesson to you all. Stay put and live, or run and die.” They turned to see the other Shepherds approaching, having heard their shout, and looked back. “If you run, we  _ will _ catch you, and I’m afraid we can’t afford to be merciful.”

Donnel watched in amazement. He wasn’t sure whether he was in awe of Robin’s authority, or afraid that they’d turn it against him.

“Donnel.” He jolted as they turned to him once more. “Don’t distract me again. Please?” Robin gave him a furtive, pleading look before returning to their post.

Now firmly terrified, Donnel backed away as quick as he could. He yelped as he walked right back into another of the Shepherds.

“Hey, if it ain’t the little lord!” Vaike bellowed with a grin, ruffling Donnel’s already messy hair.

“H-howdy, Vaike, er, The Vaike…” The young man shook his head in exasperation, “Sorry, I just can’t keep yer nickname straight.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it, squirt! Ya boy is nothin’ if not a good teacher.”

“Sure.” Donnel turned back to the still body of the dead mercenary. “D-do ya think he had to die?”

Vaike grimaced in thought for a second before saying, “Eh, if I were him, I woulda been running back to the big boss to tell him everything went tits up. Robin’s smart, bet they were thinking the same thing.”

“I guess…” Donnel scowled, unconvinced.

“Hey, ain’t that your horse?” Vaike said, watching the steed trotting away.

“GAH! Bessie, get yer butt back here!” Donnel cried, chasing after her.

~~~

“I have learned more about Plegian torture methods today than I ever cared to know,” Chrom groaned as he emerged from the tent used for the interrogation, Frederick close behind him.

“You will have to grow accustomed to such unsavory things, Chrom. Especially if what he said was true. We may be facing civil war before long.” Frederick’s face was as still as ever, as though he were attending a banquet rather than an execution.

Aversa emerged, wiping the blood on her knife off on her thigh. “I can assure you, Sir Chrom, King Frederick, that our methods do a much better job of prying out the truth than you might expect. Regardless, the man is dead as the day is long, and there’s work to be done.” The queen walked past the Ylisseans with a wave, her figure silhouetted by the setting sun. “Do make sure you bring your tactician with you to negotiations this evening. I shall be bringing my best men to the table, after all, and I expect you’ll do the same.”

“Of course, Queen Aversa,” Frederick said with a nod.

Chrom waited until Aversa was a ways away before speaking, “I’ll be honest with you, Frederick. I’m not sure how comfortable I am with how easily she killed the bandit leader.” He scowled as he recalled the speed with which Aversa’s blade sliced open the captive Zanth’s throat when she was confident he’d spoken the truth.

Frederick seemed unfazed, however. “The man was Plegian, Chrom. And Aversa has proven good to her word. When she was but a girl little older than I, crowned queen of a bleeding nation, she swore that Plegians violating the peace between our kingdoms would be tried as traitors to the crown. The man was Plegian, and spilt blood under orders to spark another Crusade. Judge, jury, and executioner though she may be, his fate was sealed when we defeated him this day.”

Chrom sighed, “Does everything have to become a history lesson with you?”

Frederick smirked. “Not if you’d actually paid attention in your studies, no.”

“I swear, you’re like the mother I never asked for!”

~~~

The strategy tent was one of the more sizeable ones in camp. It needed to be, when briefings were more cumbersome. The wooden table in its center was large but plain, built for the function of laying out plans and nothing more.

Standing at one side of the table were Ylisse’s representatives: Chrom, Emmeryn, King Frederick, and Robin. On the other side were Plegia’s representatives: Queen Aversa and two of her men. The first was a soldier in wyvern knight attire whose every feature seemed to come to a point. His jaw was defined, his nose was sharp, and even his hair was naturally spiky. The second was a large, muscular man with ashy brown skin, a scar over one eye and a thick beard growing down from his face. At first glance, they seemed more like bodyguards than generals in Plegia’s army.

“Before we get ahead of ourselves,” the queen began. “I have brought with me Lieutenant Vasto of Plegia’s Wyvern Brigade-” The sharp soldier grinned at the Ylisseans as his queen gestured to him, “-and General Mustafa of Plegia’s Ground Forces.” The larger man gave a small nod.

Frederick responded in kind, “As you are already aware, Queen Aversa, I have with me Lady Emmeryn and Sir Chrom of the exalted bloodline, and Robin, tactician of the Shepherds.”

“A pleasure,” Robin said with a bow of respect, both to the queen and her men.

“And with introductions out of the way,” Aversa said, twirling her fingers. “I shall first begin by saying that Plegian soldiers shall be reinforcing the borders to prevent mercenary bands from entering or leaving either of our countries.”

Frederick nodded. “Likewise, what soldiers Ylisse can spare shall be on high alert for any unusual activity on our roads. We are spread thin as it is, and with the threat of the Risen, it’s the most we can manage to do.”

Queen Aversa clicked her tongue. “Unfortunately, we are unable to bolster your numbers with our own troops.” 

Frederick nodded understandingly while Chrom scowled. “And why not?” The young lord asked, unable to hide the bite in his tone.

Aversa simply looked to the king to explain. “The people of Ylisse at large will still be uneasy with the presence of any Plegian troops,” he explained. “Much as our forces could use the extra hands, there would be unmanageable protests against it.”

Chrom narrowed his eyes, but relented.

“If it pleases your Majesty,” Emmeryn spoke softly, all eyes turning to her. “I would request that… at the very least, Ylissean mercenaries found violating Plegian peace be returned to our country to stand trial.” Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed the uncertainty with which she made her request.

Queen Aversa shook her head. “My apologies, milady, but I can make no such promise. My people can ill afford to have mercy on those who would threaten our lives.” Emmeryn’s face fell. “However,” she amended. “If the enemy is taken down easily enough, I will see to it that any survivors are sent to you, along with the remains of the others.”

“How kind of you,” Robin said, surprised.

General Mustafa spoke, “It is both by the word of Grima and the tradition of Plegia that we honor the dead. Even of those not of our faith or country. As we would bury our own, so shall we see you bury yours.” His voice was deep, but carried with it a softness that threw him into a new light. What before seemed to be an intimidating giant of man now seemed more like a gentle oak, casting a soothing shade.

“Thank you,” Emmeryn said with a sad smile.

“Keeping in mind the effect Plegian soldiers would have on Ylissean citizenry,” Frederick began. “While we cannot offer the same, would it be out of turn to ask if our troops were allowed passage through Plegia?”

Aversa seemed to contemplate the king’s tentative request, before nodding. “Yes. For so long as communication of intent is made between chains of command, your troops will find no resistance in crossing our borders. However, this shall only apply to your personal troops, milord.”

“Pardon?”

“The Shepherds. Chrom and his merry band have proven their loyalty to you and your cause on the battlefield today, but I cannot say that the rest of your troops are not under the influence of your conspirators.”

Frederick frowned, but nodded in agreement. He turned to his tactician, speaking, “Robin, with what we have, have you anything in mind for current strategies in handling our current situation?”

Robin smiled, having already been spinning their gears. “Yes, sir. I’ve already been working on tight pairings within the Shepherds’ ranks to ensure that our response time to any threat is nigh-immediate. With access through Plegia, I can begin planning evacuation and escape routes should you or Emmeryn need to flee Ylisstol for any reason. The desert terrain will make for some complications, however…”

“Damn,” Chrom hissed under his breath, “If not for Phila’s injuries we’d have that base covered.”

Aversa cleared her throat, before saying, “About that! It ought not to surprise you, but I was made aware of what befell your Flight Commander. And she was Lady Emmeryn’s personal retainer, was she not?” She clapped her hands together. “Then might I offer, in her stead, Lieutenant Vasto return with you to Ylisse? He is a skilled flier and a formidable combatant. He shall serve you well in guarding her.”

The Ylisseans seemed uncertain as Vasto held his head up high. “Your praise does not go unappreciated, my queen,” he said with a drawl.

“Keeping in mind the suddenness of this alliance, your Majesty,” Chrom spoke, eyeing the wyvern lord with contempt. “How can we be certain your lieutenant can be trusted, or is even equal to the task?”

Vasto scoffed as Aversa simply shook her head, “Worry not, sir Chrom. I can assure you that Vasto will not betray this alliance or my confidence.” The man puffed out his chest. “If he did, I’d have his head on a pike and his name drowned in infamy for all to know who it was exactly that turned our allies against us.” Vasto deflated, cringing at the thought.

Frederick nodded, “I understand your misgivings, Chrom, but as we’ve no other capable of performing the role to Phila’s ability, I will trust Queen Aversa’s recommendation.”

Vasto than took a breath before coming around to Emmeryn’s side and taking a knee. “Milady, my axe is yours, for I shall stand ever vigilant at your side until your knight has recovered.” He looked up with a sly grin, “Or longer, if you so desire it.”

Robin had to choke down a laugh at Vasto’s shameless display, while Emmeryn hesitantly accepted his service.

“Now, with that out of the way, I believe we can fine tune the details of military cooperation in writing,” Queen Aversa said. “If you are not averse to it, we can call this negotiation settled.”

Before the Ylisseans could agree to closing discussion for the night, Mustafa spoke, “If you would permit me to ask one more thing, milady…”

Aversa cocked her head at her general. “Proceed, General Mustafa,” she replied, interested.

“Tactician Robin,” Mustafa addressed them.

“Yes?”

“I overheard you in battle,” he began. “You said that you would fight to insure the safety of our Plegian soldiers, yet you, a Plegian, fight under Ylisse’s banner.”

Robin pursed their lips, wondering where he was going with this. “I did, and I do…”

“Did you truly mean those words, that you would accept the blame if even one of our men fell?”

Robin stood straighter. “Yes, I did.”

Mustafa nodded sagely. “I see.” He turned to Aversa, “My queen, if you would allow it, I would join the Shepherds. I shall represent our people in their fight for our shared cause, and see to it that Robin’s efforts today were not in vain.”

Frederick and Emmeryn smiled softly while Chrom looked baffled. Queen Aversa simply shrugged, saying, “You are free to do what you will. General Campari and I should be able to lead your troops in your absence.”

“By your leave, your majesty,” Mustafa said with a bow, before coming over to Robin’s side. He looked down on them with a steady gaze. “Your words were not lost on me. I vow to follow you as best I can.”

 

With that, the alliance was struck, and the Ylissean representatives returned to their troops with Plegian allies in tow. Emmeryn seemed unsure of introducing Vasto to the Pegasus Knight squad that had accompanied her to the Border Pass. While Chrom didn’t know what to make of Mustafa yet, Frederick seemed to engage easily with the general. Robin figured perhaps it was their similar temperament.

Regardless of how well these new allies got along with the Ylisseans, the journey home was sure to be a colorful one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mustafa gets to Not Die! Vasto flirts with Emmeryn instead of trying to kidnap her!
> 
> Next time: Support Break 1! Look forward to some fresh and new conversations between old favorites


	8. Support Break 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take a breather on the march back to Ylisstol with a batch of supports!

Meanwhile, on the march…

Robin and Vaike

Robin: ...Vaike? What are you up to out here?

Vaike: Eh? Me? Up to? Nothin’! Har har! Yessir, just a whooole lot of nothin’. Oh, lookie there! Pretty flowers! I sure do love me a pretty flower, don’t you? Yep! Love ‘em. All of ‘em! ...Say, what’s your favorite flower, Robin?

Robin: Just who are you trying to fool? I KNOW what you’re up to.

Vaike: Har har! Nope, not me! Just lookin’ at all them pretty flowers is all. Nice, ain’t they?

Robin: Liar. You’re trying to see who’s bathing in the spring over there.

Vaike: S-spring? There’s a spring? Why, I had NO idea!

Robin: Don’t play dumb with me, Vaike! Now stop leering and get back to camp.

Vaike: Aw, come on now! You can’t blame a guy! Don’t you ever--

Robin: No! I don’t, uh… I don’t. Thank the gods.

Vaike: Right little goody two-shoes, ain’t ya? Interrupting my fun just when…! Aw, hell with it. Guess I’m done lookin’ at flowers. But I ain’t just gonna give-- Eh? What’s that?

Robin: That’s... Miriel’s horse, right? It’s just… watching. Why is it looking at us like that?

Vaike: I dunno, but it’s creepin’ me out! I’m outta here!

Robin: I’m… coming with you. What an eerie creature...

 

Lissa and Maribelle

Maribelle: Milady, it’s time for tea.

Lissa: Ugh, finally! All these exercises are tough. I’m glad to be a knight, but… I miss the days of lounging and drinking tea and relaxing, you know?

Maribelle: Of course, darling, which is precisely why I’ll be here to ensure that you take a much-needed break.

Lissa: Thanks, Maribelle. Mmmm, this tea is soooo good!

Maribelle: Isn’t it, milady? I’ve been keeping a stock exclusively for our tea time. The leaves today were of a citrus blend, your favorite.

Lissa: I like citrus?

Maribelle: Truly, you didn’t know? You always mention the flavor of tea if it’s citrus. Especially orange, though lemon is easier to come by. You know how it is, more affordable when it’s not imported.

Lissa: Wait, you mean you’ve been buying all our tea yourself?!

Maribelle: Of course, milady. It would hardly do for a peasant to serve tea from the royal stores.

Lissa: But, but… You shouldn’t have to do that! I can buy more tea than I can drink, why should you have to pay for me?

Maribelle: It is my duty and pleasure to serve you, milady. It would be disreputable were I to take advantage of your kindness and be paid for.

Lissa: Disreputable? Maribelle, how do you pay for all our tea?

Maribelle: Well, of course my dressmaking is my main source of income, but you are right that tea is a costly expense. That’s why I have a special job specifically for funding our tea time.

Lissa: And what’s that?

Maribelle: Why don’t you take a guess, darling?

Lissa: Hmmmm. Is it… carpentry?

Maribelle: Tsk! And have to deal with the splinters? Never.

Lissa: Babysitting?

Maribelle: I can ill afford to have my clothes ruined by a child playing in a mud puddle.

Lissa: This is hard! What sort of jobs do you have time for when you’re not making clothes?

Maribelle: I suppose I shall take pity and tell you simply. My part-time job…

Lissa: Is…?

Maribelle: Robbing caravans at knife point with a band of marauders.

Lissa: *PFFFFFFFFFFFFTTT!*

Maribelle: Darling, please! It is uncouth to spew tea! Are you all right?

Lissa: Am I all right? Are you all right?! You can’t expect me to believe that!

Maribelle: I don’t, milady. It was only a jest.

Lissa: I can’t believe I fell for that… Well, it doesn’t matter! Because from now on, I’M buying the tea in this relationship.

Maribelle: Why, milady, that isn’t necessary…

Lissa: Don’t you ‘milady’ me! You’re my best friend and I’m not drinking your money away anymore. Now, where’s a good place to buy tea…?

Maribelle: Oh dear… 

 

Chrom and Frederick

Chrom: Finally, a chance to relax. Marching, meetings, training… I love a good sparring match, but right now, I love my bedroll even more. Come to Chro-

Frederick: Chrom?

Chrom: GAH! F-Frederick! What are you doing in my tent?!

Frederick: I’ve been trying to find you for some time now. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my retainer, who is sworn to my side for my protection, was avoiding his liege…

Chrom: Why would I be avoiding you? Didn’t you check the training grounds? I was there not half an hour ago.

Frederick: Yes, and a quarter hour ago I was told you’d finished when I searched there.

Chrom: Because I went to wash off in the river.

Frederick: Of course. What matters is, I’ve waited here for you, and here you are. I’d like to discuss your recent attendance of Ylissean Council meetings.

Chrom: What’s there to discuss? I’ve shown up at every meeting for the past 6 months. Unless you’ve been holding council in secret, I’ve not missed anything.

Frederick: Yet I fear what you are missing is the point of the meetings.

Chrom: The “point”? I just thought you and Emm liked to watch me suffer.

Frederick: All jokes aside…

Chrom: Who’s joking?

Frederick: I fear you are not retaining anything you’ve learned about the machinations of running the kingdom. Therefore…

Chrom: Oh gods…

Frederick: I’ve decided to pen you a series of hypothetical proposals on this paper. I expect a response from you for each of them, within the moon.

Chrom: Are you… giving me homework?

Frederick: Neither of us has the time to sit down and talk at length about these topics at the moment. However, if you can manage your time properly, you can hand your work in such that I can look over it on my time. For the sake of both of our sanities, I believe this to be the ideal arrangement.

Chrom: In what world is a dozen essays “ideal”?!

 

Maribelle and Chrom

Maribelle: Oh! Good day, milord.

Chrom: Hello, Maribelle. And please, just call me Chrom.

Maribelle: A-as you command, of course. Is there anything I can do for you? There’s a chill in the air, perhaps some tea?

Chrom: ...You know what? Sure. I could use a little pick-me-up. Thank you, Maribelle.

Maribelle: There’s no need to thank me. I live to serve the good nobility.

Chrom: Now is not the time for service. We’re all comrades-in-arms here. Please don’t wear yourself down caring for the wants of the nobles here. Frederick would tell you the same thing.

Maribelle: Yes, but--

Chrom: You’ve fought as hard as any of us. You must be exhausted.

Maribelle: I’m no stranger to a small amount of physical exertion, milord.

Chrom: I suppose I wouldn’t know the rigors of day labor. But please, look after yourself as well. If not for your own sake, than how about for ours? Lissa and I both?

Maribelle: ...Of course, milord. Your wish is my command. Now, about that tea?

Chrom: I’ll take it, thanks.

Maribelle: I do enjoy spending time with you and Lissa... I pray we always have such an opportunity.

Chrom: I hope so, too...

 

Miriel and Virion

Miriel: Virion.

Virion: Ah, my sweet… Miriel, was it? How may I be of service?

Miriel: I wonder if I may ask you a favor.

Virion: I live to serve, milady. Merely say the word and--

Miriel: Yes, I understand your posturing to mean you agree. I have questions for you that none other can answer. Your skills and experiences are unique among our allies, and would provide a necessary change in perspective.

Virion: Your reputation precedes you, milady. I knew your eye to be sharp, and you have picked me out as a man of culture and finery. Ask away.

Miriel: Within the camp, your combat prowess is notable. You are our only wyvern rider at hand, and your relationship with your chosen mount is yet more idiosyncratic. I wish to understand these differences such that I might apply this knowledge to aid in the rearing of mounts in both wartime and peace.

Virion: Yes, my dearest Minerva is a gift unto my soul, for she is distinct even among her fellow dragonkin. None others shine so brightly or sing such melodious tones. Her ferocity is as unmatched as her beauty, for she is both ruthless and cunning. Truly, she learned from the best.

Miriel: So your wyvern is the result of fine care and grooming? And were your methods replicated, they would produce similarly exemplary mounts and riders?

Virion: Hmmm… no, I cannot say that to be true. Minerva is more than simply the sum of her upbringing. So are all living things, such as you or I. Though my life is storied and magnificent, it was not my past that made me the man I am, but rather who I am carved my history into the annals of time.

Miriel: So you say that one’s character also plays a role? This seems to contradict your previous statement about the wyvern’s care.

Virion: A contradiction? Nay, milady, rather what I said was an explanation. That there exists far more than nature and nurture that defines the quality of--

Miriel: I see this conversation is getting us nowhere.

Virion: My, so quick to flee? I thought you a woman of pursuit.

Miriel: My pursuit of knowledge is not one to be stymied by the ego of one man. I thought my femininity and some pointed questions enough to strike past your ranting. But no matter. I shall see to my studies elsewhere.

Virion: So you shall, milady? May we speak again soon...

 

Sumia and Stahl

Stahl: 1… 2… 3… shoot! 1… 2… 3… shoot!

Sumia: Hut! 2, 3, 4. Hut! 2, 3, 4. Hut!

Stahl: Oh, hey… Sumia… you training, too?

Sumia: H-hello, Stahl… Yeah! Gotta  _ huff _ keep up my armor training.

Stahl: So you’re running around… in full armor?

Sumia: Yeah…! No better way to build up stamina… and maintain speed!

Stahl: Here, take my waterskin. I always keep a few extras on hand.

Sumia: Thank you! I didn’t think I could go another run without a water break.

Stahl: ...You know? I don’t think you need to worry so much about your speed.

Sumia: Hm? What makes you say that?

Stahl: I mean, you’re the fastest armor knight in Ylisse! You could run circles around anyone, and most of us aren’t walking around in full plate.

Sumia: I wouldn’t say that… I still can’t keep from tripping over myself all the time!

Stahl: Yeah, at camp. But on the battlefield?

Sumia: Well, when we’re in a fight, things always seem a lot clearer.

Stahl: I know! If I saw you barreling at me across the field, I’d run for my life! But if we were in the barracks, I’d be more worried that you wouldn’t make it halfway to me.

Sumia: You don’t have to rub it in.

Stahl: Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sure you’ll figure it out, eventually.

Sumia: Yeah, eventually…

 

Robin and Chrom

Chrom: Robin? Are you in here?

Robin: Yes, Chrom. I’m just doing some studying…

Chrom: You should relax a bit. You know, sit down, enjoy some tea? You missed the dinner bell, buried so deep in your books.

Robin: Ah, that would explain the hunger pains. There’s just so much I need to know, I’ve barely had time to think about eating.

Chrom: It’s going to be tough, that’s for sure. And it’s only going to get harder.

Robin: I’ll try to take care of myself on my own time, Chrom. You don’t have to worry about me getting in anyone’s way.

Chrom: Er…

Robin: What? Did I say something?

Chrom: What makes you think you’re getting in anyone’s way?

Robin: I’m not exactly as well-acquainted as everyone else is with each other here, Chrom. I’m new to the Shepherds, is all.

Chrom: So is Virion, and he gets along just fine… Shameless flirting aside.

Robin: It’s alright, Chrom. I’m fine on my own.

Chrom: ...No. You’re one of us, and you shouldn’t feel like you aren’t.

Robin: Chrom, I think you might be making something out of nothing.

Chrom: Am I? Because it sounds to me like you would rather hole yourself up in a library than get to know your comrades. I formed the Shepherds so that Ylisse would have a host of real people defending them, and real people know who it is fighting by their side.

Robin: I KNOW who I’m fighting with, Chrom, I just--

Chrom: You just think you’re not going to fit in.

Robin: …

Chrom: …

Robin: ...I’m not like the rest of the Shepherds, Chrom.

Chrom: How so?

Robin: I… It’s hard to say, really. I just know it’s true.

Chrom: Then I’ll just have to prove you wrong.

Robin: I suppose you will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think, please! I'm actually really proud of these supports, if not how long it took me to write them...
> 
> As to why it took so long... LOOK, A DISTRACTION! *dives into the nearby shrubbery*


End file.
